Nova Peak Γ

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skorpa roamed.

the taiga held meat for his belly and it held @Ayovi, even if he did not understand what was between she and the drengr who too lingered in this place. for now, coexistence maintained, though the filthied man avoided the company of any others.

today he stalked ptarmigan. their fat feathered selves were succulent and stupid, a combination of traits which he hoped would net his belly a win today.

he did not know where regnvand was; he did not know if she would come back or continue to course the deep drifts and short cropped grass of the taiga.

for now, in this moment, skorpa was alone.

he did not like it.

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Moon Runner did not stay close to Cloud Dancer and her companion as they rested… but she did not stray far, either. Perhaps it was her latent desire for family – camaraderie – that did not disperse Moon Runner into the taiga once again.

The flat plateau of Redtail Rise and its charred forest could be seen from Nova Peak’s mountainside… and Moon Runner watched it quietly from a perch of snow-covered rock.

Then, movement caught her eye. It seemed the man now felt well enough to hunt. Moon Runner descended towards the hunting-place… oddly, his fetid stench brought Moon Runner some comfort because it reminded her of Vulture (@Carrion).

Oh, how her pack-sister had been affected by the clash between Blood Spot and the one they came to know as Wealda!

Moon Runner’s footsteps were quiet. Birdcatching was her favorite hunt. She chuffed and brought attention to herself. Hunting in pairs would always be more successful.

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lydløssne. a snowdrift that held imprint but no sound. she was young but a polished hunter in her own right. he wondered when she had left behind those she knew, and what had broken them apart.

einor. skorpa did not admit to himself that he had come to regret it.

his burning-brand gaze regarded her own snowspot face; he grunted and turned back to his stalking, a study in focused muscle which forced a dull thrum of pain through all parts of his body.

he leapt once, a rush of speed which cost him everything.

the bird had time to squawk only once in surprise.

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Their eyes met, but this did not distract Grim Tooth from his hunt.

Moon Runner began to trail behind him. Her nostrils flared, sifting the air for scents.

Then, the male burst forth. Frantic wingbeats took a bird into the air. But Grim Tooth did not leap!

Moon Runner tucked her feet beneath her body and sprang.

Clack! Her jaws snapped around the bird’s tailfeathers, shredding them.

It flew a bit farther, but then began to falter before falling back toward the earth.

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lighter than he, snowdown wolf plucked bird from the air.

skorpa shouted in pleasure and lunged to pull wingtip into a spray. he could not believe it, and was quite impressed to have seen her gambit.

like a cat she had jumped! he delighted in the idea of telling ayovi about it.

the ptarmigan was given a merciful end.

skorpa tossed that fat bird to his hunt-mate. "for lydløssne."

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The pair rushed to the spot the bird had fallen. Grim Tooth quickly dispatched it and Moon Runner gave him space. Color her surprised when it was tossed her way!

Moon Runner began to salivate and quickly jumped on the kill. It was wolfishly devoured in two or three bites. Mother Nature did not like slow eaters.

She licked her jowls merrily as if to say thank you. Belly a little fuller, her tail swayed.

Let’s find another!

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she ate with gusto and he was reminded of those ravenous halls, the feasting, the boisterous laughter.

memory faded in auditory wisp. this was his time now, his emotion now. this mountain. ayovi.

skorpa grinned his filthied grin and fell into step with the silent-snow hunter, eyes searching for another bedded bird.

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Moon Runner’s mind was tossed back in time, to the days of hunting fowl with Wise Father and White Buffalo Hunter.

She stalked in parallel with Grim Tooth.

Until – there. Her nose passed through a fresh scent cone.

Moon Runner’s body froze, tail straight and quivering, when she locked on.

It was a unique hunting style she had developed... as if she was the predecessor of a pointing dog, showing Grim Tooth where the bird lay.

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"godt, godt," skorpa muttered, eyes following the unyield of that muzzle's sightline. another two birds in nearby snow.

one flew for life.

another found its end in the bearman's jaws.

he carried it back, slinging this one across a broad shoulder and gesturing to the fallen white. "tredje?"

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