Wapun Meadow in the way you're walking,

she could feel his presence, though further away. the way he followed, the way he let her command, just as she had once told him she appreciated within a man. it felt, now, that he was taking her words to heart - an appreciation for the polar-cub, the snowbird, that triggered something within her. something that she could not, dare not name.

not now, not in the midst of the hunt. not while @Dolce still lingered on her mind, stuck like a burr in a matted pelt. she moved now, relinquishing both of the men from her thoughts - following the deer, using it as an outlet for the energy, the thoughts she had pent up, hidden away from the world. the deer moved with panic, bounding through the snow. as the moments went on, it grew slower, slower. long seconds passed by, and now it could only trot, brought down by the cold that was withstandable thanks to the thick coats that the pair shared. the deer, to, had its fur thickened by the cold...

...but it was no wolf.

it turned, now, rearing when they drew closer, and so nanuralaaq would dart - practiced, poised and precise - to its hind, latching on to its rightwards leg. her tail, high above her, would wag viciously, now, a silent call for tvar to bare his teeth and bite down. a meal soon won. it would struggle beneath them. soon to be grounded. bleeding.