Cricket Creek Bog ¤aapiaq

Ultimately, Stratos had not stayed at Moonglow. After meeting his father at the borderline and sending him back with news to anaa that he was alive and safe, he had turned around to leave and chart his own path through the wilds again.

He was not a boy anymore, after all. He was a man. And men did not settle back home with their parents; they found new villages,  new places in the world.

So here he was. Trying, with another stranger along the way. Maybe one of these days, one of his acquaintances would stick.

Hallo, friend. This one greets you, he said, as the other man pulled into view through the low lying branches of the bog. Ice fishing? He had not played such a sport in many days! I have strong paws on ice. I could help make hole even bigger! And we could catch double to bring back to your wife.

For that was who he had called to, no? Perhaps they had a village here; this one seemed of northern stock.