Duskfire Glacier all this rotting fruit with you

She leaned carefully into the greeting, not looking to be as rough with Imaq as she had been with the pelt at her paws.

You know me well. Partially meant as some sort of soft tease but the statement was true and a bit duller than her usual humor. This unknown word — papvisâk — was perfect in a way. Not a word that Iana knew, but still a word pinned to her emotions by someone she trusted.

A run would do me good. Perhaps somewhere far through snow banks. If any could still be found. Something to plow through and wear her energy thin.