Silver Moraine chase

His question was not an unfair one—neither of them. In fact, it was one asked many times before; the first of many steps. It was good that he asked this, right—he would not go into it blindly. None should. 

How to explain? How to articulate? 

You are given many tasks, for the continued future of Tartok. I have done much, and must still do more. Tartok will find its place here, she rumbled, I thought, perhaps in battle! But now, I think not, for fighting Issitoq for a band loyal not even to him seemed fruitless. There was plenty more land she could stake claim to, and wolves who would heartily choose to become. 

He asked a question, and she nodded. Can be both, if they choose—Tartok, it is also built as much as it is chosen. First is the choice—then, the work. One must give up much, to start… to show. One’s past, one’s blood, even one’s name. But the way of Darukaal—its strength… its ferocity… it, too, becomes. Tartok, it continues to become. Stronger. Fiercer, her words came slow, and not very easily. Would he understand? Could he see his own pivotal place, in the story of Tartok? 

Tikigâk felt him alongside her, and wondered if any of this might appeal. In him, she saw the capability and potential for Sangilak—but what he had worked hard to build alone might be worth much more to him than what Tikigâk would have him work all the harder for, only with her. He was enough, as he was—as was Darukaal. 

But she offered him another formative path, a path he might wish to walk with her. A path his people might wish to choose, too—but she would not force him that way, nor them. First to see if he thought he could! Identity… it meant much to a wolf, she had come to learn.