Duskfire Glacier The moon cuts a path

Tikigâk nods, not displeased by the idea of acquiring one of these furs. Tikigâk would provide the woman with plenty of time to complete the task and seek her out once more. The prospect of another hunt was answered with the steady wave of her tail. Something larger, comes Tikigâk’s tacked on thought, her low, cool voice wrapped in something akin to amusement. 

Tikigâk, she answers in turn with a rumble, unbothered by the “when” of when she spoke her name. Tikigâk would remember her scent before anything else, in any event. When the wolf took the critter she intended to take the furs of, Tikigâk picked up the other to bring to her mate as a light snack. With him, she would resume her own patrol, thinking fondly of the wolf who she had hunted with this day.