Silver Moraine v manik

Pungent evergreen aromas paint the air and he is pleased—sinking in to the nostalgia as it strikes him.

He picks his way along with a leisurely stride until the ridge bisects and he must choose a path. The mountains sit behind him as a watchful bulwark. Fire glints on the horizon to the northeast. Hills undulate around the epicenter that is Kigipigak, and he is unsure of where next he should journey.

The wolf is hungry and so he begins the endless cycle once more of seeking a strong scent: his head bows over the crag-heavy surface of the moraine's topography and the work begins. The repetition brings him some comfort; he imagines what it would be like to feast on the giant tuttuvak that passed by Unnuakvik every year, sighs, and puts thoughts of home from his mind.