The Tangle Arpiqsiaputiq

It was hard not to compare this place to Morningsong; to not think of Dutch, and to spiral in to deeper hurts as she went along. Hard, but not impossible. It took some cunning to find a path for her lithe form, one which would allow her quiet passage.

Not all who wandered did so with as much forethought, she would come to realize. Sulukinak's inherent hypervigilance made the struggles of the other wolf, this yearling, an obvious fixation as she noticed the brambles quaking; and when there came a call - either of frustration or perhaps pain - Sulukinak gave them a wide berth.

Even so, she kept an eye upon them. The brambles appeared to have snared this person in a way that would require self-harm if they wished for freedom; how ironic then, that Sulukinak was in a similar (however metaphysical) state herself.

Slinking close, she looks upon the stranger.

Her voice is quiet but authoritative: You are stuck. Turn towards me, and duck. It would help, but not all the way. And, it would hurt. As she had come to learn... many things in life required a blood sacrifice.