They tracked the herd from afar, keeping their distance so as not to disturb the travelling beasts. No doubt, if they figured a wolf pack — even one with as few as the current band of Tartok wolves — was hunting them, they would head in another direction. Or scatter prematurely, which would not be a good thing for the wolves. For the moment, however, they rested in the rolling hills to the east, unaware of (or, at least, tolerated) the presence of Silaluk and her companions.
Anuniaq currently trailed the craggy peaks of a mountain that overlooked the pasture, keeping both an eye on the creatures and on where he stepped. The ground was uneven and sharp, every stone edge threatening to spill blood should he lose his footing. He was raised among mountains, however, and did not fear the height nor the danger. Head to the wind, the boy let it ruffle his thick fur before craning his neck to inspect one of the spindly trees that grew here.
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