Frostfire Ridge iksuktaktuk

Set for the 9th, vague re: earlier threads.

Kigipigak knew he could only go south. The wind was pulsing in dangerous waves from the north and brought with it the seemingly endless snowfall; it had gotten to the point where travel was ill-advisable even to someone well equipped for it. He could barely see three feet head of his nose. Scents weren't lost exactly, but the turbulent wind got him turned around a few times. Trails were easy to lose.

The wind pushed at him as he marched, and when Kigipigak finally climbed over a small hill it shoved him off the other side, in to a gully that had been inundated with ice. Through this he crunched, found his footing, and fought on. He pulled himself from the depths of snow and shook off, not that it made any difference. Kigipigak's layered coat of white looked looked a lot cleaner, and he blended in with the falling snow all the way along. 

The frozen grass and hard-packed earth gave way to stone, the incline bringing him south along the frosted ridge. He thought he'd found a trail and followed it eagerly, especially as the scent of deer found its way to his nose. Kigipigak tried to keep thoughts of hunger from his mind but it was hard. The path inevitably forked, the scent trail going stale soon after, and he had to make a choice. The far-off hedgerow of trees might afford some protection from the elements and so he prowled that way.