For Nutuyikruk :D

---

Skill - Ranger

Nate had put together that a pack lived by the big lake. For now he kept some distance from the center of it, hoping to make up his mind about whether they were worth trying to meet. It wasn't strange, being a drifter, but even the universal language of tails and ears and smells and sounds didn't translate exactly, and if he was going to introduce himself properly, he wanted to... well, do it properly.

He supposed his presence must be known by now. Aivar had found him, after all. But Nate avoided the herds and made an effort not to follow fresh wolf tracks. Ko-Ga proved to be good eyes, too, making it easier to avoid meetings Nate wasn't ready to have.

Instead he put his nose to work, trying to claim better use of it, since it seemed the tool a wahya lived and died by. He was looking for territory markers, hoping to map out the edge of the ice-hunter's borders.

What a trial that was turning out to be!

But he was glad for an open space, and gladder still for a thick coat to wear through it. Winter seemed a familiar friend, here. Today with the sun shining, it almost felt warm.

Ko-Ga circled above him, and when his warning call went out, it went out late.

Ko-Ga had decided that Nate-Dog's lonely moping had gone on long enough, and he ought to meet someone.

So, yes, Ko-Ga had waited a little longer than usual to say anything about the stranger gleaming on the snow.

Her body is changing.

She is not sure what part of her mind is so rampant as to not trust Aivar’s choice of friend today.
Male scent drove her into a frenzy to steal away whatever claim was about to be drizzled onto their land. His body was too short to hold a sufficient bladder, so maybe he would deserve mercy!

Land that the Saatsine did not claim, no, not at all. Cen spoke law that their territory was every caribou body. But Nutuyikruk’s head whirled and she pounced at the boy for a pin!

Eleanore had startled him, once. He'd been tending horses in the barn, and like a panther she'd snuck up behind him for a friendly jab. Except he'd been hardened by prairie warfare, where ambush meant swift death, and in sudden panic rounded on her with a fist.

It'd taken profuse apologizing and the allowing of a reciprocal blow to soothe her vengeful scorn, and then a great deal additional time fabricating a different tale to give her father about the welt to her cheek — one that would not end with Nate being taken out back and shot for daring to place hands on the Belle of Brandy Crossing.

Only a temporary stay of execution, in the end.

Turned out, wolf blood hadn't made him any less jumpy. He unleashed a sudden growl and spun, had barely lifted his head before the — girl? why did he think it was a girl? — had flung her weight upon him. Teeth snapped, but only found air. Feet kicked, and maybe those would find better purchase, aiming to protect his throat from whatever violent end he was about to face, Shit! I'm friendly!

Maybe Ko-Ga had misjudged the situation. A little.

Swooping down with an angry grackle, he beat his wings in her face and scratched at the ears and eyes and nose of the she-dog in a hasty attempt to get her off his flockmate. No biting! No!

Nutuyikruk settled comfortable atop the boy. Legs splayed, rippling muscles from a harsh land. Tense from planting ground and capturing him sturdy under her. Feet kicked hard at her belly and throat, which lowered forcefully through the raking nails with a dangerous growl. Pesky talons started to scratch along sensitive muzzle skin.

She had half a mind to pee on the boy and make good assertion! Pulling her head away from the kicks and scratches, legs still barricading bird-boy, the moonwolf’s muzzle made ugly, twitching wrinkles that grew more irritated by the kicking. If the bird continued too long, she’d snap it out the sky. Or perhaps Tuguvun would.

Why did it still attack?

“Who,” scratching, scratching, the raven thing! She tried very desperately to get the words out, for her teeth were refraining and were not listening as she wanted them to. Very, very sad, oh! “Are you?”

Nate Ronan! He answered hastily, and no teeth clamped on his throat, but a new fear knotted in his belly for Ko-Ga. The girl was strong. Stronger than Nate, right now.

Tla! (No!) He barked.

But Ko-Ga didn't seem to care. Didn't seem to realize he was mortal at all, and barbed death in the face.

Don't hurt 'im! Nate begged the girl in a voice of cracking ice, because a bird was the only friend he had left in the world, and watching Ko-Ga die twice wasn't something Nate thought he could survive. He's only protecin' me, Nate struggled beneath her, and felt himself on the verge of committing real violence, Just lemme go— Please!

Stomach twisting, breath rigid. The bird was relentless and the boy ticking with anger. Nutuyikruk could snuff the flame of unease with a bite to the throat, but there was life in the blue eyes that seemed almost kind. Caan was on his face, and rage was difficult to foster when staring at one of very eyes she intended to protect.

Releasing hold, the slave moved only two steps away and lips caged teeth away from delicate feathers.

Tuguvu was watching.
With him, her aaka. Her taatak.

She squinted through the onslaught of nails. It was an awkward declare next, but they were the only words which would come forth from the girl as she bore her best attempt at being fierce. But almost in a self-questioning voice that a sister would argue to a brother: “I know no Nate!”

The moment she let go he bolted, a scrabbling and ungraceful movement, and Ko-Ga! was on his lips like a General’s command.

This time Ko-Ga listened, beating hasty wings and clamping merciful talons into Nate’s fur.

But he knew the terror of the girl’s thighs, now, and didn’t like his odds of making clean escape on her own turf.

Three wolf-lengths away he stopped and spun to face her, panting, fur bristling.

`I know no Nate!’

Well you do, now! He hollered back, equal in consternation.

Then his nose wrinkled. He blinked, lip tugged into a toothy gape, Did you just — piss on me?