Duskfire Glacier Come a little bit closer

The rolling thunder of his stride met hers—their collision was again a brutal force of nature even as they drew against one another, she pressing into him with as much vigor as her mate. The noise she answered with was not dissimilar to the one he made, a primal echo of shared sentiment. Something powerful, something else their own. She lingered at his side to sniff at the heavy furs he carried for a beat, tail waving slowly behind her. As he drew past her she remained still, watching—as he looked to her, she turned and moved in her heavy step to his side. 

Musk ox. Her mouth watered; she scarcely could feel the saliva pooling before it oozed from the edge of her parted jaws in a thin string that was quick to snap and melt into snow. A meal she had not known she craved until he was awash in its scent. A difficult thing to hunt—her gaze turned to his, impressed. Tikigâk leaned to nibble gristle from where it rest in a tangle of his own fur, out of reach and caught in a small wind-formed knot.

His low voice was heard as she withdrew, shifting her weight. 

Not yet, rumbled the difficult to please brute, rolling her own shoulders. Tikigâk was still learning this land—she did not doubt she would find what she needed here, a land rich with resources. Tikigâk said with ample confidence, but I will.

She shook out her furs before a thought occurred to her. Show to me a place that only you can find, Tikigâk prompts with a sweep of her tail, knowing well that in the earliest days of whelping she would only accept food from him—and knowing, too, that his own longevity here would lend to him knowledge of paths unwalked by any but for him… that still had much to offer.