Nova Peak β

Beauty shone upon every knoll; up each flocked pine and along the creek where she ran her tongue. Ayovi marches the hills, setting her footprints across the rigid winterscape and searching out each cave and grotto. She’d learned to step high, so her coat would not catch on every twig— the result of which was a snowy trot that trailed after Skorpa.
His north-word crawls across her ears and she lopes closer to hear it more clearly.
“Bjerg.” The huntress had begun a habit of echoing his tongue, though she couldn’t be certain of any true definition; only what it meant to her within the context of their conversations.
Bjerg means mount, she decides, and tromps beside the red man in a giddy lushness. Bjerg might also mean home. Ayovi desires to see it more closely.
Her nose scents the air for pack, and gathering nothing, lifts her voice in song.
I am here to join you!
Her ears prick, listening for calls above the gathering winds.