Deepwood Weald [m] red flax

cen moved away. sulukinak spoke in a way he had not expected. chakliux was shaken; a muscle leapt in his jawline, and he stared after the two until the shadows veiled them from view. "no, dutch. you are right. he does not like you because of me." coldness stirred in his gaze, something dutch might recall from their hunt; that hunger had never left chakliux. it had only been mollified by his trophy.
now another threat raised its head, and this time inside his own home. and thus, so did that empty-gut sensation settle itself on the arrogant cen and what he had done. 
"the caribou hunters do not like us. none of us on either side ever truly knew why. but he says the way i live has shamed you, so -- now you see." he was the one with guilt; he straightened his scarred shoulders and gazed between dutch and simbelmyne. "right now he is part of moontide. that means i will keep him under my watch and i will wait for the moment he can be driven out. this is between you and i, between forest hunters and seal people. but soon it will be between he and moontide."
it was clear he wanted to go and return, to plan; he wanted to sit with his embarrassment and let it boil until he had a path blazed by anger.