Dawnlark Plains paint rock

Tartok itself has many branches, many moieties, she thinks, and she speaks. "I see." Though what they are or how many roam the land is not known to her, their history of little interest besides their name and their function. The ridge had been a bastion specialised in war tactics, of information gathered before teeth were raised. It had since evolved over time to a violence more suited of their clan, but Nagruk had been taught well the principles of risk and reward.

"Land claimed is easy to defend. Easy for warriors to rest, not have to march long days. Hunt different prey in same area - no issues." She explains, digging a little at his obsession with caribou. It is logical to her, to build a fortress that one would defend with their life. "War Chief be not just who stay long, it be who best suited, no? I lead battles before, I tear out throat of wolf and bear. I train young for old clan, give words to mother of friends and enemies."

She stalks back to his side, turning to watch the calves take their first steps. "Landazoii and Tartok strong together. I prove this, with time." It is the final thing she will say on the matter, falling into a thoughtful quiet.