That understanding does not make Iglux̂ his savior nor saatsine his shelter—not after the way he’d bared his teeth at her only moments before. She does not trust him, and her eyes still bare it plainly. But there is a curiosity now, to see how he would take to the herds, whether he would blood himself as a caribou hunter and submit to their chieftain.
Iglux̂ says no more. She shuffles back until the space between them allows her a full turn, then she pads several quick paces out to the far treeline, nose tipping back over her shoulder to see if he was following.
It is not an invitation— but neither is it the refusal it had been.



