Silver Moraine sky hand

he longed for caribou, for the touch of his wife, for the hunger of the wind. he longed to see his son again, to lead him on the long march.

his own march was one of hunger under the open sky, eating what he could find. belly stretched with carrion, yikaas left a trail for the red raven to follow.

something here. a heap of knifesilver fur. the caribou man investigated with a curled lip. alive? he prodded the still shoulder with a calloused paw, and none too softly.