Larksong Grotto Quånitǐge

It had not been easy to get into the grotto, even for a wolf used to navigating the more treacherous paths of a mountain. Tikigâk picked her way down, muscles burning in a way that she had missed. The lands had been much too flat for her liking for many months now—it was good to climb again, and to uncover a place few would be bold enough to know existed. For Tikigâk it was less about the beauty offered, and more about the food that could be found. She suspected she would be left more or less alone here to rest and recover before the next leg of her journey. 

Tikigâk sniffs at the earth, coming to learn of the creatures that had passed through recently. There are many, though most smaller than would satisfy her. Tikigâk continued on, knowing there was more ground yet to cover before the day could be considered a failure and the climb a waste of time and energy.

Signs of larger game were observed. Tusk grooves in the earth… paths made by a body that had bullied its way through. Tikigâk grimaced. Here the scent was not so fresh, but she would need to remain vigilant. Tikigâk did not desire to squabble with such a beast. Their meat was delicious, but the fight was often more trouble than it was worth. They could gore you easier than a bison, she felt, smaller and more capricious. Quicker and more capable for it, too. 

With a grunt, she moved on. The scat of caribou, more recent—the sign of a herd moving through. This trail she followed, ears swiveling. It was a mile in where she heard the sound of the creature she sought to avoid, though it was not so near as to cause her any issue with her tracking. All the same, she paused to listen to ensure none of its fellows were nearby, ears pricked and eyes surveilling her surroundings in a slow sweep.