Duskfire Glacier [m] Village song

Her gaze slants toward him. It said in quiet answer, that is because I am. He was sharp-eyed, as the eagle and the hawk were known to be. While she gives him no words, there is apparent approval in her own gaze. Tikigâk recognizes in him his own strength and prowess. He is not only a great warrior, but a great hunter—a thing of great importance to her. She would count on him to keep her mouth full in the latest days of her pregnancy, and the earliest days of her whelping.

But she saw there was no cause to worry. Tikigâk felt no concern. 

As he placed the meat before her, Tikigâk watched him, saw him, with her own sharp eyes. She saw his recognition—a reaffirmation. Heat stirred in her belly at the look she shared with him. A primal thing, one that no known word in any spoken dialect could encompass. But then and there, they understood it. 

She could appreciate Darukaal—no, not could. She did. Tikigâk was Darukaal. Her teeth would shape that very bone he spoke of, now. 

Her gaze turned to the flesh he spoke of, but not for very long—his touch had relit the end of her fuse, and Tikigâk could not wait much longer! And yet, she wanted to watch him work; it seemed to matter, to mean something, and so she would support this act. 

Tikigâk had been born onto cold stone. She had never known the warmth of fur beneath her. 

Faust brought with him improvements—Tikigâk was curious. But watching him work increased her appetite toward him, so much so that by the time he approached Tikigâk was already standing and circling him, surging ahead only to lead him to another place to stake his claim thoroughly upon her. 

Not far from their hunt. Tikigâk could not wait so long, and would not.