Nutuyikruk introduced him as a prince. Caan strained not to remind her that he didn't particularly feel like a prince, for this strange man, Aivar, latched on it without a second thought. The man's voice carried the word with little reverence, for he introduced himself as a prince.

Caan decided that biting Aivar wasn't completely off the table as the man flagged his tail and spoke as though they were equal. For Nutuyikruk informed Caan of the very fact that they were not.

To be a prince implied that you were entitled to inherit something, at least in Caan's mind. To own something. Did this prospective hunter understand that whatever ground his kin had claimed meant nothing on the long march?  There was no value to claiming land you were going to move from. That is why Caan claimed the proximity to their camp. He only owned the ground beneath his feet at any given moment.

Across the lake the caribou paid no mind to the wolves or the downpour. The boy's eyes gleamed as his gaze passed over them, for he was entitled to something greater than land.

Prince of what, Aivar? Caan did not quell beneath the man's gaze, his voice cool. If you truly wish to be Saastine, you would be forfeiting it. Surely you know this, if you are under trial.