Ouroboros Spine ¤kalipqit

This time as he snuck away from his sisters, from his mother who was too busy minding Akmaaksi's high energy and Nutuyiruk's growing attitude, he climbed. There were many paths up the spine; many scents, most of which were adults that were familiar to him.

A voice within the wind calls, No, little brother.

But he did not want to listen. He wanted to stand tall and proud upon the cliffs, if possible. He wanted to see what the grown-ups did when they went away from the ulax. The higher he went, the less and less the boy could find of any wolf scent — except one.

A man's scent. (@Cen)

Tautukpik moseyed, his legs sore and his energy sapped by the time he reached a point in the ridge where he could spy, and he saw this man hunched and hobbled.

the greystone eyes lifted to the child climbing the rock, and his lip curled. it was ghelan of whom he thought now, his son with the twisted leg. would he ever be able to climb in such a way?

knowing it would spell immediate death to maul the boy beneath the watchful eye of today's guardian, cen snorted and lay down, curling away from the unwanted visitor.

When he had encountered other adults of the village they had been accommodating to Tautukpik, or outright enthusiastic to meet him. This was the first instance where that did not happen - and also the first time he has seen a man kept far from the collective. He did not smell like those of the village; his was a salty, dusty scent which Tautukpik could not place.

He was unafraid.

Sneaking closer, he settled in the shadow of a stone ledge. His gaze flashed with muddy green-blue, still in transition.

Are you sick? Maybe that was why he was up here, and so strange smelling. But the healing place was closer to where the boy and his family slept. He accepted the idea, regardless.

Is it your tummy? He pursed his lips in the way his grandmother did sometimes, as if he knew the answers.