Qeya River tarqiup inua

Two shadows lingered alongside the white wolf, one pale, one dark, as Sakhmet's vibrations continued to flow through him. He stared at the trio in his mind's eye, watched as the aġnalluataq herded them gently away, then gestured in his direction with her muzzle.

"Qaġġaiñ, Malrok," she sang sweetly, and he padded toward her, even as his corporeal form slipped away into a shallow sleep.

The pair flanked him, the aġnalluataq behind, and they walked along the edge of a dark forest, boughs laden heavy with snow. Every so often, one would crack; he flinched at the sound, but watched the icy shower with keen eyes.

His tiny paws twitched. Malrok was dreaming.