---

A strain against the snow, Aivar was never hard to spot. Slowly, very slowly, he was learning to adapt to this new life, these new ways. More and more often as of late, he found himself thinking of the past, what he missed, what he'd lost. This world was so very different. These people were so very different.

The red and grey fur of one of the caribou hunters he did not know bobbed towards him. Too straight of a line to be doing anything other than directly approaching Aivar, or Dzaan, as was his name here.

Amber eyes narrowed to slits. Suspicious as always, Aivar was unsure how to react. Raised hackles still seemed like the proper reaction, but it wasn't the action he should take towards a pack member. His tail, then, wagged slowly.