Moonsong Glacier you've got a church and steeple

Ulloriaq felt her chest swell with warmth to know he had her back. The idea had been just that: an idea, until his words had blossomed it into something more. If she decided the path of a shaman was truly right for her, she would seek moonwoman upon her return from Hearthwood. But, only if she was sure.

Wordlessly, she rose to give him space as his head turned towards gray trader's resting place once more. Hopefully, Dutch had found what he came to seek here. If not, she would accompany him again, and again, until he too was at peace.

She did not truly relax until the grave was out of sight and the wind spirits were left to howl alone again. 

"I have not given it much thought until now," she admitted, ears drooping slightly. "But, I have always felt a connection with spirits." Somewhere along the raven's path she had begun talking to the ethereal more than flesh and blood. "Becoming a shaman comes with responsibilities - as does becoming Chief." Concerned, her eyes worriedly traced the slope of his muzzle in a silent question: how have you been?