Blackfoot Forest faith ain't no privilege

nanuralaaq moved south-west from the valley in which she made her home, carried only by the wind and an urge to keep the surrounding areas free of threat so that her packmates may rest peacefully, without threat nor fear. so she walked, now, on light paws that hardly churned the snow underneath, carrying her with a gliding grace almost comparable to an ice-skater, or a wandering spirit. pale in an ethereal manner.

it was her that emerged from the shadows ahead, watching him watch her, her eyes similarly pale, though orange rather than yellow. he was tall, like many she knew, though less toned, athletic, instead appearing rounded, to have lived a life of comfort. the snowwoman turned her head, then, studying him. curious. hello, she tested, quiet, melodic, as if speaking carefully as to not disrupt the peace of the they stood within. moonlight filtered through the trees, bathing the white wolves in a ghostly colouration.

who are you? she asked, assessing the thread of his presence.