Blacktail Deer Plateau is one good lie and a river of blood

Dutch was a busy man. As Chief of the glacier now, his presence was always in high demand. Ulloriaq was content to be alone, but often did she seek his side and had begun to revel in any time they had together.

It came to no surprise that she had jumped at his invitation to visit their neighbours. Given their close vicinity, it was imperative that they at least made a good impression. Whatever extent of a relationship Ariadne had built with them was unknown but now, together, they would start it afresh.

Her laugh was breathless (and tinged with just a little worry) as she watched Dutch emerge clumsily on the far side of the bank. The crossing she made herself was far less eventful, instead revelling in the icy gut-punch the water brought. 

Giving his cheek a reassuring nose, Ulloriaq fell into step beside him as they neared the border of the plateau. There was a wolf on the horizon; it was always exciting to meet new faces though she hoped they would not be as dismissive as the rise had been. Nevertheless, it was the scents that caught her attention most. Unmistakable, the sweetness that marked womanhood intertwined with the incense of man - it sparked a faint burn in the depths of her belly that could not be willed away.