Silver Moraine kill

How long had it been since she had been able to eat while the kill was so fresh as this? How long would it be, until she could do so again? She did not know, though understood that it could be some time before she might enjoy the latter again walking the path of a lone wolf. Here with her now was a wolf worthy of her time, her strength. He had lent her his own as she had lent him hers. 

And perhaps that was the end of it. A simple exchange, one that sated her appetite and reinvigorated her. Tikigâk, full now, withdrew from the prey and licked her chops. Now would be a time in which she would rest, normally—but Tikigâk would not wear out her welcome. 

Her gold eyes shift back to he who had become Ujagatsiak to her this day. A hammer of a man, that would bend all that he could beneath his strong arm. 

Tikigâk, content, dipped her head in gratitude. It is time for her to go, she thinks—had she respected him less, Tikigâk might have thought to linger. Any desire to do so existed for an entirely different reason Tikigâk could not yet name, which might have vexed her were she more compelled to think on it. Young yet, she could not identify the approach of her first season. 

She stepped away, pausing only to see if he would accompany her on her way out.