Silver Moraine chase

Tikigâk tilted her head as he placed the hide aside, bidding she take the fur with her. She had no need for it, and it had no benefit to her. The sentiment intended was lost upon her, who saw things from a utilitarian perspective. With no home yet to speak of, it would be more burdensome to look after than anything else. 

But she did not refute him. Stranger still, she stepped toward it. His next words caused her head to tilt all the more, ears pricked as though there were a key word in there that she found some sort of vestment in. 

Anneriwok—the beginnings of an oath. This moment in time, the whispers of an oath older than even that. Natures call beckoned. It was a song not even she could ignore, deaf to all else then and won over by instinct. Twitterpated, with the coming of Spring, and unaware of it.  

She bore her teeth to him in a feral grin. A step toward him now, head straightening, Could you choose to become? not an invitation, not yet—only a questing question, seeing the make of him, but not wanting to imagine. Wanting to know, wanting to see for herself. Tartok, it was a selfless thing as much as it could be selfish. Choosing her, before and above any other, as she in turn would choose him. Begin anew, baptized in bloodshed. Could he—would he?