A Yak of All Trades.

Aristaios moved with Rakia, his senses tuned to the hunt. This time they had a new quarry to find. The dry, dusty riverbed felt firm beneath his paws. His two toned eyes shone with determination, reflecting the midday winter sun against the marble cliffs. He watched as Rakia flared her nostrils, catching the earthy musk of their prey – a lone yak. They followed the ancient, snow-layered riverbed, ears pricked forward, breath steaming in the biting cold. The blinding brightness of the white landscape revealed what they sought eventually: a series of large hoofprints. He offered a nod to the other hunters, a grin splitting his maw. The yak was near, and the hunt was on.


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