fa'liya keeps her pace easy, matching his stride without thinking too hard about it. the woods open a little as they move—thin birch giving way to darker stands where the wind cuts less sharp.

at his question, her ears tilt, thoughtful. yes, she answers, after a beat. a calf. she glances up at him then, blue meeting blue, gauging his reaction.

i am learning, she adds, quieter, as if that part matters most. her tail lifts a touch, confidence flickering there despite herself. want to be useful.[/i]

It is here that Fa'liya is given a smile from her brother. The change in her disposition shown in little ways. Any attention from their father was a gift from the cold chieftain. Caan refrained from commenting that his first hunt with their father was an old bull. Any hunt, any success, meant they were alive. Meant that they were a part of their father's clan.

Want to be useful.

Caan nodded to the sentiment, understanding it completely.

Their path through the grove followed the scent of caribou. The environment should signs of the animals' passing. Bark stripped from trees, deep furrows made in the snow. The caribou made due with what they had.

Caan believe that he and his sister could too.

When the animals came into view he looked to his sister.

Would you like to pick?

fa'liya slows when the herd comes into view. caribou move through the trees in loose shapes of brown, breath fogging in the cold. their hooves scrape crusted snow, digging for whatever the winter has spared beneath it.

would you like to pick? no, no she would not—she is a poor judge, she thinks, but the offer is to her benefit. it is a chance to prove both her competence and what she can handle.

her gaze moves through the herd slowly, carefully, the way she saw mother do it. she had no interest in the broad-shouldered cows or the thick-necked bull standing watch—instead on one nearer the back; a yearling, maybe. nothing strong enough to outrun them, small enough that the herd would abandon it should they succeed.

that one, she murmurs, nose tipping toward it.

fa'liya shifts her weight, pressing her paws deeper into the powder as she lowers herself instinctively. her tail stills behind her. when she glances back at caan, there’s something tight in her expression—not quite fear, not quite excitement. perhaps both.