Snowforest Taiga nibinaboug jiske

together, they bring the mighty bull to its knees. crashing into the earth, spraying the pair with snow. wheezing and thrashing before it ultimately goes still. and even then, for a few moments, kuva does not let go. she squeezes, crushes. only when she feels the pulse beneath her teeth still, she lets go. 

she whispers a quick prayer, so that the fierce spirit of the felled bull find its way to the sun. to continue its stampede in the afterlife. blood stains her golden maw, in which she laps at it only once before the man speaks.

kuva does not respond at first. she slinks closer, eyeing him. wary, but curious. almost approving. he was strong, broad—he would have made a fine makwa'tek. she's nosing at his side, his shoulder—uncaring of his personal space. tail swaying with her approval. 

"kuvageegai," she stated, short and pointed. rounding back to his front, she meets his gaze with intensity. "you tell makwa-man name." her common tongue fractured, thick with her distinct accent.