he grunted, shifting his weight.
caribou,he muttered, tapping the edge of the print with his paw.
big one, movin’ east. ain’t been long—wind hasn’t touched the trail.
he glanced back at twitch, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might’ve passed for a smirk if you knew him well enough.
good thing you brought those eyes. i ain’t tradin’ out just yet.
then he stood, shaking the dust from his fur. his voice dropped quieter, rough with warmth:
come on, kid. let’s go get somethin’ worth draggin’ home.