Qeya River anilaaktuk

Kigipigak was intent upon finding his beloved and reuniting with his sons, to the point that he did not think so much about the recruit who ran on his heel — until it was too late. He had not seen signs of anyone until the dark figure of a wolf erupted from the trees, zeroing-in on Tulukiri with the intent to grab and to maim.

He turned his attention immediately to the collision of bodies. He saw the way the black-bodied wolf slammed in to the golden one, trusted that Tulukiri could take the hit, and loosed a snarl the likes of which Natigvik had never heard flow from his chest.

He veered towards the pair of them and attempted to wedge himself in between, grappling with the dark shoulder of one body, holding it, and growling until he realized who it was that defended the village.

Amalia!

He released soon enough but did not shed the intense bearing he had adopted in the heat of the moment. The tone in which he brayed her name was clue enough she had done something wrong. Then, he saw her — gloriously red like the blood he had spilled, sharp-bodied where before she held the weight of motherhood; his wife! The heat of battle subsided but Kigipigak could not pull away from the confrontation between guardian and recruit, not until it was resolved.

His heart thundered throughout.