Permafrost Hollows nevermind in what we do

Six. Six full-moon cycles had passed, spent marking, hunting, and thriving. The cracked boulder called home had served him so well that the youth had grown. Not by much, as he had learned when he found he could still wriggle into burrows his prey fled to in search of safety. The smaller lifeforms had no home as great as his. They learned this in their last moments when his fierce jaws snapped their necks in two.

But something drove him on. A wanderlust that perhaps could be traced to his coyote lineage. Maybe it was just Sakina's nature to seek out adventure, to map every corner of the Teekon before he met his end.

So the coydog arrived in the icy-cold of Permafrost Hollows, where his breath came in puffs of wispy smoke, and the pads of his paws grew numb and unusable if he strayed too long. He had skirted around the great peak, not unlike the horn of some mighty beast, and had been brave enough to set foot on the great Duskfire Glacier.

That had been almost seven sun cycles ago. Now, the tiny canid Sakina had found a new place to call home for the time being. Underneath the horn. Well hidden, a set of tunnels and caverns that he had happened to stumble upon on the third sun became the second place he claimed. The stone was cold but protected him from the worst of the frost outside. To make it more welcoming, he had stuffed his nest with feathers and tufts of soft rabbit fur.

Currently, however, those caves were empty. Sakina was out on a hunt, careening across the frosted ground after a rabbit that barely stayed a pace ahead of him. It squealed in terror, zig-zagging in an attempt to throw its pursuer. The coydog was faster still. At full stride, his speed was impressive, gained in the sacrifice of raw strength. Suddenly, the prey made a dash for something it knew was safe. A sure feeling of relief coursed through its tiny body as it scrambled its way inside the burrow. The feeling was short-lived.

Jumping up into the air, Sakina let his body go straight as he dived nose-first into the hole. The canid sunk to his shoulders before backing out with a limp, skinny rabbit in his jaws. A rumble of pride filled his chest as he found a flat piece of rock to eat and then sunbathe on.

When it came to Dwin's relationship to religion she would best be described as an agnostic. Neither was she overly superstitious. And by this time she was also outgrowing her belief in various fictional and imaginary characters that had played an important role during her childhood. She had learned by now that the world was not painted exactly in the colours she had imagined it to be and at the same time the fact that there was just hard work and no easy solutions, made the reality all the more fascinating. You had to be different kind of creative to deal with the challenges. BUT with all her grown-up mindset time from time she enjoyed to engage in a little bit of magic. Like, when she had to decide, where to go next from the plains - South or East - she had consulted with her favourite deity - Loki. She had asked him for a sign and he had delivered, when a gust of Eastern wind hit her in the face with a stray leaf. 

So - off she went - past a claimed territory, where she had meandered around a bit, hoping to meet any of the dwellers to talk with, but, when that did not happen, she had moved on. The landscape changed, it got considerably colder and once again food became hard to come by. Going back the same way she had arrived was out of question. Boring even, therefore despite the hangry rumbling in her belly, she followed a path left by another predator earlier and eventually she arrived just in time to see a dappled canine figure going after a rabbit and catching it succesfully. "Good hunt," she called from distance, approaching the other. "You move like wind," she praised.