Qeya River three

Her ears prick and her eyes turn toward Kukuvrak. They had a like mind in that moment—she was a savage woman who was made for war, and crafted to win them. The singular braincell that occupied her mind had made this her purpose, her function. She was otherwise ruled by instinct, a primal beast. There was truly not much to her. 

Nagruk was conflicted, she could see—for good reason. Mothers were among the fiercest of fighters Tikigâk had ever encountered, even those not well-learned in battle. 

She did not see any good reason for this fight, when there was plenty land to take for themselves beyond this place—she thought it all a waste of time, but she was much more simple-minded. Tikigâk was incapable of “thinking big”—she simply saw the picture as it was presented. 

If he does not choose, we go, she rumbled conclusively—what else was for them here? Issitoq was no enemy of Tartok, and his children no threat. Tikigâk deduced that food must be plentiful in these Wilds, even within the Winter, if he allowed for two litters—all the more reason to range, to stake a claim of their own and continue to build their own legacy here. 

Nagruk would have killed him already if he was weak, she believed—and this would not be Sun Clan, but Tartok.