Silver Moraine chase

She stepped after him, the knowing tread of the well-learned hunter. Tikigâk did not press ahead of him, seeking to learn the scents they passed over. Tikigâk understood the world through her nose first, and these were scents she recognized. Her eyes saw the fresh marks, and her nose told her just how fresh they truly were.

Blood in the tracks. Ones limping. 

A bad injury, then. Today, a fatal one. 

Tikigâk rumbled in acceptance, up to the task. They had done it before—they would do it again. The lands were fruitful this season.

She stepped to his side, catching his gaze. Ready when you are.