Duskfire Glacier I am the wrath that topples armies,

Tikigâk notes the myriad of scents upon him. It is familiar, but only vaguely so—it had been very stale the day she sniffed the old resting place of Saatsine. That he was here now was not strange to her—many males dispersed from their packs, when finding a she-wolf to pair with. And the scent of one was prominent upon him, that scent also familiar—but not a face she had ever seen, yet. 

Satisfied, she withdrew as he shifted his posture. Tikigâk remained respectful, tilting her head a measure at the words. Had they not both been circling? Comprehending his words quite literally, she did not take the meaning—but the next words she understood. 

Like herself, he did not waste time. A spar, she rumbled, though it can wait until after she is fed, and there was no aggravation there, only patient understanding toward his duty to the she-wolf that was wife. Tikigâk left him room to decide this for himself, falling silent once more.