With the protection of pack, Siku was again content. While she might not be at its head, in time she would create her own name in these lands. For now, however, she concentrated wholly on her cubs and her own wolves, who would follow her until the end, who had joined her here. A thin, velvety lobe shifted as she trailed a rabbit. She was none too hungry after the pack hunt, but even so she trailed a rabbit, low to the ground. It was futile; she was too large to be obscured from the rabbits vision, who lunged away, and who she lunged toward. She was sure her jaws would hit their mark, but the sound of wind catching wing told her otherwise. Too slow, too relaxed. Her prey had been stolen, and she watched the rabbit drift away from her line of sight, higher and higher into the horizon.


There had been no ratiocination done at all in her hunt. None too perturbed by her failure—she hadn't needed it, but it was a lesson learned after all—the mother of four turned on her heel and thought idly of her sons. Sitamat was off with Aves. She had humored a mission to her mate, who would perhaps go with Sitamat to fulfill it, leaving her with Ataneq. Siku had no favorites. Each of her cubs were magnificent, raised perfectly and truly as perfect a specimen as one could find in the world. The strong survive. All four of her cubs had survived, testament to she and her late mate Kilgharrah's genetics. Perhaps she and Aves would have an opportunity next season to breed, to enhance the Tartok line; or perhaps it would not be with Aves. It was not for her to know.


Idly, she trailed her inky son, the eldest, Atuaserk. But she did not summon him. She would come to him when she would.

The sound of her sons approach could not be missed, but she did not turn to face him. The changing winds brought blood on them, and even though she was not hungry enough to hunt something large perhaps she and her son could earn themselves a meal yet. As Ataneq greeted her, she rumbled pleasantly. It was strange, how very grown her sons were. Once she could topple them over with a push from her paw. Now they were large boys, as large as the family they came. Siku had sired strong sons, and even though she and Nanuq had made amends, she could not help but feel smug in the thought that her own line would bring her sisters to nothing should the woman think to rise against her again.


There was no love to be had for her sister any longer, but neither did she hate her. Rarely did she think of her, except in fleeting moments such as these. Just like that, the wisp of a thought was gone. The mother stepped forward, tongue running over nose before the nostrils flared. It was not necessary, to steal this meal, but if her son was interested then she would teach him yet another lesson of life: when you have food and a stranger is near, leave. Siku could not know for certain where this wolf was, but soon they may be spang in the middle of two wolves hungry for a rabbit.

The woman was no whangdoodle. She was not fanciful, and her nature was defined to a T in the word instinct. Primal and base, there was little more to her than that. She valued her sons, who in turn valued her, and valued Tartok who respected and followed her until the end. The Issumatar did not need this thing that the wolf before her held, and as the other dropped it to the ground carelessly her eyes did not linger on the wolf but instead the prey. There was no hiding where her attentions lay, and as her son nodded Siku took a firm step forward, licking her chops. She was not a sinister woman who would speak before acting. She was a woman who purely did.


Tail lashed left and right at her hocks as she thought of potential repercussions for her actions. She was a subordinate, now, was she not? But Phineas surely would understand that the strong survived and the weak and dim did not—


No. It was not needed. Siku, too, mirrored her sons actions. A simple nod. Slow and confident, her eyes moved from the rabbit to the woman who was dim enough to place it to the ground. She would not warn the other to watch her prey. In time, Siku herself may still very well take it. The red wolf was regarded quietly, and Siku lifted her head all the higher.

Siku felt as though she could feel her son stiffen as the woman finished her words. But the woman understood well enough the intent behind them. One need not be clairvoyant when it came to these matters. Unafraid though the woman looked, she could smell anxiety on the air. Protected by Siku, and trained well by her, Ataneq need not have any cause for the emotion. Were it him, she would smell it all the more. But it was not. Siku blinked, and then took the woman up on the offer. There was no cause for kindness here. Siku's previous meal would last her a good amount of time, but the Issumatar could be greedy when the mood struck her. She may not be allochtonous to the land where she now stood, but she was settling in to it. Quite nicely.



Siku moved swiftly toward the woman, her eyes upon the carcass but her lobes shifting atop her head should the stranger make any sudden movements. Siku would be upon her quicker than she was her prey, and in this instance the limp carcass. Her eyes only landed on the red wolf when she moved to pick the critter up, and then she backed up a few paces prior to turning on her heel and depositing the thing before her son. For you.



Siku did not so much as give the woman a goodbye as she deigned it time to go. She had found her son, and with a content belly would he train beside his mother today in the arts of fighting and tracking.