Wapun Meadow in the way you're walking,

best keep up, storm cloud, she smiled, indirectly revealing the meaning of the first name she had given him, too. and it seemed, then, that although the playful manner continued to follow after her, she had adopted a seriousness that came with the hunt. nanuralaaq was known as a huntress for a reason, a purpose.

a swath of deer fur on the horizon, its head lowered, seemingly grazing at whatever grasses had not been completely covered by snow. steps were light, careful not to alert the deer too early. though blood scent seemed to radiate from its body, she could not quite see its injuries, as it seemed tall, and as plump as it possibly be considering that it was wintertime. a weary tail flick that tvar could possibly discern as a sign of worry.

as the pair drew closer, its head raised, antlered and watchful. but she would continue, eyes narrowed, braving through whatever anxieties she may have had and darting her tongue out to wet her black lips. there, she murmured. he may be strong, but we are stronger in unity. the words almost prayer-like, akin to a rally before a battle.

and so she moved, leading the man, larger than herself, to the hunt.