The Tangle Arpiqsiaputiq

The boy - for that's all he was, coltish and as awkward as the apprentices of the hunt - obeyed her with some hesitation, and all the same Sulukinak was surprised to see his attempt unfold. She was not as old or as wise as her three teachers, yet commanded authority if she tried. Curious.

The sound of nettles tugging through the tangle of fur, along with the pulling of skin, accompanied the pained cries of the boy; but he was free enough, and could find his way further.

He said something about moss, which caught in her ears.

Sulukinak felt the pull to keep moving. She had to will herself to stay present, stay focused. Moss? Green and wet. Food for caribou. That's what she knew, anyway.

You're not caribou. The straightforward way she said that was a little odd, but nothing amiss for Sulukinak, who rarely joked.