![](/images/re-caribou.png)
Tuqloq the Caribou is now dead. The Spirit of Wildwood will no longer be making posts on his behalf and rounds will begin regularly without any further posting. Everyone else may now reach/attack the bull.The thundering growls of his tormentors closed in on him before he could even open his eyes.
The first to reach him wore a pelt of all black. This startled Tuqloq, who had to some degree always doubted the songs about the wolves, the one that promised the omen, the Reaper wolf, the harbinger of death as skinny and dark as a shadow. But it was true, it was all true. Tuqloq was staring in awe and terror into the hell-fire eyes of his killer and wondering pointlessly about the sweetness of meadow grass in the moments before they lunged toward him, their jaws parted. The wolf's aim was true and it found his throat. Helplessly, Tuqloq thrashed against the wolf, but struggling only magnified his suffering. Searing pain blossomed from the fangs that sunk deeper and deeper into his neck and his blood flowed freely over the face of his killer.
He faded away slowly.
Absently, he felt someone tugging at his hinquarters. But that pain didn't seemed to be so bad. It was if it were happening to someone else far away. Someone he had known before but didn't need to care about any longer. Absently, but with much difficulty, Tuqloq craned his head upwards to the darkening sky. Actually, everything about the world seemed to be darkening at a rapid pace. He sighed, welcoming the night into his heart.
With his last breath he charged up into the sky, ready to graze among the stars.