Blackfeather Woods aullaaqkiaŋŋa

The segment of the mule deer herd he followed, while small, was mostly female. They were headed by a pair of bucks which Kigipigak presumed were siblings based on their similar builds and ages, but there was no way to know for sure — only, they did not fight over the females despite the season. He imagined there was some sort of alliance between them. Perhaps they were too young, but he chose to think of them as a pair of brothers protecting their women.

The longer he lurked and tried to get a better view of them, the less and less likely that eventuality became. The slightest stirring of wind through the boughs, or cackle of a crow from overhead, sent the nimble deer running through paths they knew well, and Kigipigak did not.

He thought he chased down one possible route, but when he was presented by a brackish looking man instead of the slim bodies which he had hoped to find, the winterborn man stopped and watched. He was careful because the stranger looked to be fully grown, broad-bodied, and in good health.

The other man noticed him at the same time and chuffed. Kigipigak gave a small nod, the kind which men shared between one-another, and glanced beyond the figure to see if the deer lingered; although, it was easy to assume they did not.

I greet you, he said next, his voice warm despite the edge of caution he carried in the swagger of his steps.

The stranger did not carry any mark that Kigipigak recognized. Are you hunting alone?