Sitka stared out over over the ice from his place on the wall. He'd escaped his father again. Nokala was very over protective of his only son, not matter how often Sitka reminded him that he was sixteen, and plenty old enough to take care of himself. He pulled the mask that covered the lower half of his face down around his neck, taking a deep breath of the cold air. He looked down at the long fall to the ground below him.
As long as he wasn't busy, then perhaps he should do something to help his father. He jumped, only to fall a few feet before moving one hand in a sharp gesture, and catching himself on a ledge of ice that formed beneath his feet. He looked over the edge, standing straight and moving his hands and feet, forming miniature ledges from his ledge to the ground. then he leaped from ledge to ledge, landing on the ground and waving a hand at the wall, and watching as the ledges sank beck into the ice, seeming to have never been there to begin with. then he turned, walking quickly and arriving at his father's small canoe, neatly stowed in a hollow hole. He dragged it out into the water.
There was a low growl from behind him. Sitka turned to see Kishka there, watching him. "There you are! Where have you been girl?" The large snow leopard laid her ears back against her head, looking between him and the boat reproachfully. Sitka laughed. "Alright, get in." He gestured to the boat. Kishka loped forward, and stepped carefully into the canoe, her great weight rocking the small boat back and forth in the water.
Sitka looked at the boat nervously. He didn't like deep water. He took a deep breath, and grabbed the edge of the boat, pulling it closer to the land. He climbed into the canoe. holding entirely still and gripping the sides until the boat stopped moving.
Kishka turned to face him, butting her head affectionately against his shoulder. "Don't move." He said to her softly. The Snow leopard held entirely still until the boat stopped moving. Sitka relaxed, then picked up the oar and began to row the boat out into the favored fishing spots his father had shown him when he was little. He set the oar down, looking into the water and holding still and waiting fro the fish.