Wapun Meadow in the way you're walking,

snowwoman seemed to settle at tvar's approval, a faint smile crossing her features. my thoughts, she mused ; he seemed to echo her assessments, and that was something that the polar-cub learnt to appreciate. he spoke of tracking, of the wind - easy for a smaller woman, whose scent glands were smaller, though she did not think the same for a man of pure muscle. a challenging expression clouded her face, now, brows raising with a hint of mischief. lucky for you, i am quick. perhaps even quicker than piqsiq' nuvu'.

and the way his eyes met her figure did not go unnoticed, although snowwoman would not be one to directly encourage his fleeting glances. he was still under assessment, in some far corner of her mind. still deciding, working out where he would stand amongst her. and, still, her thoughts lingered elsewhere. she could not be sure of a man until he was the only one within her mind, and tvar did not meet such criteria ... yet. pushing the thought away, she stood, trotting forwards with a dancers poise. tail flagging behind her.

deer scent drew towards them on the winds. it was faint, far within the meadow, she assumed, and so rala slipped into a hunter's saunter, a somewhat subconscious movement as she moved faster than a walk, yet slower than a canter. though her coat was plush, at his height thickness during the winter, it was visible - the way her well-trained body moved underneath. seeking her prey akin to that of a mountain lion. stalking, even.

it would take a while, judging by the strength of the scent, to reach their target, so the snowbird would turn her head, curious. one day, she begun. breathy, hiding a bout of laughter that could erupt at any moment. smiling. i will find out what your ... lāosyssy means ... and perhaps i will tell you the common-speak of piqsiq' nuvu'.

then, assessing his figure rather shamelessly, she said: or, maybe taaqtuq qaqqaq suits you better, unabashed when it came to his muscled figure. glancing at his eyes, then.