Duskfire Glacier iqaluksiuq

keshka shakes her head, slow and firm, casting a glance toward the stretch of ice behind them. no. just over the peak, she says, voice low, like the wind might carry it too far if she wasn't careful. isolated plain. they graze there.
her gaze flicks to the heron, to the dangling frog legs kicking weakly in the bird's beak. it earns a huff from her, something close to amusement but dulled by the ever-present cold. not here, she adds, following sulukinak’s question. too steep. too slick. they keep to the flats.
her shoulders roll in a slow shrug. you’ll see. and with that, she starts forward, expecting the shadow to follow, her pace unhurried but certain, already picturing the herd in her mind’s eye. sturdy bodies dark against the snow. plenty for the taking.