Silver Moraine gnashing teeth

the air was still, the clouds broken and scattering. there was little movement across the moraine except for his dark shape, prowling, and then from behind him came the kill-sister. she moved well; as expected of one who trails caribou, there was evidence of a well-honed endurance.
he spun on his heel, bristling; flashing teeth, more in a flehmen response than a warning to her—but, why not both? the scent of the interloper dwindled here and kukuvrak did not know the terrain well enough to know where next to tread.
perhaps she did.