Whitebark Stream the last of her tribe

they had been here too long, and his restlessness was apparent. sun eater ranged farther, hunted longer; he kept distant from his clan, though he knew he must work with and among them, knew he must draw them together and speak his ways.

but today he continued to eschew company, watching a small band of caribou approach. something distracted the lead, sun eater felt, and his ears swung forward with apt instinctual wisdom. he descended his small rise of snow and ran toward the herd, which scattered and in their breaking numbers he glimpsed the masculine figure which followed.

a growl. but he came forward all the same, ignoring that he might have spoiled a hunt; there was something new and familiar and odd in the other's bearing, enough to make him grunt out, "who you?"