Redhawk Caldera aitchugaa-kaluk

Kilgitsuk took time to eat his fill at the lake, and extra fish he caught were tidied (he ate their innards to help preserve them), and bundled so that he could carry them with greater ease. He passed through a forest as he moved south, and there he collected plants to help bind the fish, and berries, and some familiar flowers; it almost looked as if the man were preparing a gift.

When he made camp for the night he did so on a hillside that terminated further ahead (about one-hundred feet through ferns and scattered trees) with a sudden drop. He did not know that this space was occupied, but there was wolf-scent and many game trails he had passed. It did not bother him to be so close to a village—he was a trader after all, and sometimes that required he come close.

Uncle Bronco had died. Frolic’s parents did their best to explain what that meant and she thought she understood. She didn’t feel any particular way about it but she could tell @Eljay and @Maia were quite sad. Frolic tried to cheer them up at first but when that didn’t work, she grew weary of the melancholic air and asked if she could go for a walk. She wasn’t grounded anymore, though they asked her to take her brother or sister with her, so Frolic dragged @Callahan along.

I hope he turns into a ghoul and haunts the island, stealing everybody’s teeth, Frolic said somewhere along the way, leading her brother to shake his head and walk away. What? she wondered, flummoxed, then shrugged and continued padding around the caldera on her own.

She didn’t really believe Uncle Bronco would do something like that. Her elders had told Frolic many beautifully imaginative stories over her brief lifetime, so she reflected on them now as her black paws carried her closer to the border. Her mama and papa had said something about burying Bronco tomorrow, like they might bury a seed. She decided he would become a tree, which everyone could visit. There was no need to be sad. He was still there, just transformed. The only downside was he couldn’t talk anymore, she supposed.

Her train of thought derailed when she suddenly noticed a white figure beyond the borders. Frolic stopped and blinked to a focus, then began trotting toward the stranger, mindlessly crossing the invisible boundary line to get to him. He was impressively large in stature, with white fur marked here and there with scars. Her eyes were drawn to the notch in his ear.

Hey! she exclaimed when she came closer.

A youthful voice carried from inside that invisible boundary and Kilgitsuk alerted to it, watching for the shape of whoever had spoken. It was a golden child—they came bounding beyond the limit and was boldly close, unafraid and full of curiosity. Kilgitsuk smiled wide and loosed his booming voice:

Hello! Is this your land, young warrior? It was clear enough the boy lived here, regardless of his own rank or that of his parents, however Kilgitsuk had learned while on the road that he should play a role when he was doing his trades. It was easy enough to slip back in to his bigger personality.

I am Kilgitsuk; I am a trader, and I have fish here if you have something to trade.

She dug her heels into the earth, grinding to a halt a few yards from the imposing wolf. Frolic laughed at his question, her nose wrinkling at the absurdity of such a notion. He was probably just kidding around and she could roll with it, though she was too curious about him to focus on creative fibs.

I’m not a leader and I’m not a warrior, neither! she corrected. I might be a scout one day but I’m just a little kid, I don’t got a job.

But he did, one that she hadn’t heard about before. Frolic knew quite a bit about trades as a whole now, though not the one actually called “trader.” It was kind of self-explanatory, at least.

Yuck! I hate fish! she bellowed. I don’t have anything to trade, anyway. What would you want? Frolic wondered, immensely curious.

The answers that flowed from the child were juvenile, but that didn't make them wrong or unwanted. In fact Kilgitsuk found himself pleased by the exchange! He remembered when his own sons were this small, and for a moment he was warmed by that nostalgia. He wouldn't let his mind drift too far afield through those memories.

Ah! It is not about what I want, but what you want! Or maybe your parents. He settled back, sitting, although that did nothing for his imposing aura (something that Kilgitsuk could not help, especially compared to someone so young). You don't like fish—what about your leader? I could also fetch other things. A trader goes where they must, to help those that need it.

What do you like? He grinned a customer-service smile to the boy.

His remark made her mind whir. What did she want? What might her parents want? Before Frolic could come up with anything, he posed a question about her leader.

Oh. He just died, Frolic remembered aloud. Don’t worry, she added in case he would mope about it like everybody else, he’s going to be a tree now.

Her mind turned back to items she might like to request from a trader. Recollecting Uncle Bronco’s death made her think of her parents and how sad they were about his passing. Frolic tapped at her chin, one eye squinting thoughtfully as she poked out her tongue.

I want my parents to stop being sad. I bet they’d like a gift, she posited before disclaiming, but not a stinky fish!

There was still the matter of what Frolic could offer up in exchange. She was young and had very few possessions, certainly nothing of particular note or interest to a trader such as this. The only thing she could think of was perhaps a tooth. She had a loose one…

You want a tooth to plant a tooth tree? Frolic queried.

Kilgitsuk did not get far in his sales pitch before the child blurted something absolutely unexpected. His ears gave tiny twitches, his brow raising, and as soon as the boy said died he followed it up with don't worry; leaving Kilgitsuk to experience something close to whiplash. It was the kind of social jolting he wasn't used to—but again he was reminded of his sons, and his expression softened ever so little.

A noble pursuit, the trader went on to say, responding to the boy's wish about his parents. He offered a tooth! Even in this grim moment of trying to process information about people he likely didn't know, Kilgitsuk wanted to laugh. He withheld that sensation—but was suitably charmed by the boy.

Hmm. I am not a wizard, nor do I know any that might find use in a tooth. He made an expression that mixed thoughtfulness with a frown. But if you want them to be happy again, I could try and help by bringing them something else—like when you were very, very, very small and they would bring you meat, as if the boy before him wasn't still so immature that he might be eating regurgitated rabbits I could bring them something bigger than these fish.

I know sometimes when people are sad, they can be too sad to hunt. That might help, and make them happy.

What did the boy think?

He rejected her offer right as Frolic was winding up to sock herself in the face again. She unclenched her little fist and gazed up at him, a little crestfallen but attentive as he mentioned the idea of bringing them something to eat. At least, that’s how Frolic interpreted his suggestion.

Oh, oh, can you bring them a whole deer? Frolic inquired, hopeful, momentarily forgetting the topic of payment.

If I am lucky, yes! He answered with gusto.

It would be hard to do that on his own, but he was in a valley full of friends. Kilgitsuk could make a trade to one of the moon tribes to get assistance: perhaps trade off any further work to them in exchange for a party of hunters, and then he could return here with meat to aid the child in their request.

Is that what you want? He did not think about what he might ask for in return, as for now Kilgitsuk was happy enough to have the work. Perhaps in the future he would ask for something and the trade could be completed with the little one (or more likely, one of the leaders of this village that he had yet to meet).

Yeah! Frolic shouted, pumping that same small fist into the air. Can I come with you? she asked in the very next breath.

Her parents probably wouldn’t like that but hopefully they would be too thrilled with their whole deer to ground her. And even though Frolic could barely catch a mouse—never mind coordinate on a large game hunt—she bounced on her heels, ever so eager to help this man help her parents.

Hey, what’s your name, by the way? she blurted suddenly. I’m Frolic!

The goal settled upon, and the bargain struck, Kilgitsuk rose to his feet and grinned to the child. Perhaps in the excitement of the exchange young Frolic had glossed over the name he had given earlier, but that was alright.

I am Kilgitsuk—but if that is a mouthful, you can call me... Winterhawk. It did not have the same ring to it as his native tongue; but this was also not the first time Kilgitsuk had to adjust for those he served.

He left the fish near where he had been sitting, and readied to leave.

I think it best you stay here, little scout. He did not want to dissuade Frolic too harshly. Do not worry! I will return with meat for you and your family. Perhaps I will also have stories to tell of the adventure.

He prepared to disembark and Frolic quickly mimicked him, eager to demonstrate her readiness to accompany him. But Kilgitsuk—no, Winterhawk, a rad name that made her think of her friends’ secret language—said she should stay here. And not to worry.

But— Frolic began to protest when she heard someone calling her name. Dagnabbit! Son of a monkey spank! she swore, knowing her smelly brother must’ve gone back to their parents and tattled on her. Okay, I’ll allow it! she had no choice but to say to Winterhawk then.

She waved a paw—or maybe shook a fist—and then scampered back toward the sound of the call. Frolic thought it might be kind of fun not to tell anyone about the whole deer coming their way soon because who didn’t love a surprise? But it all depended on how much trouble she was in and how much buttering up she had to do when she got there.