You're one of the tribe's skin painters.

A group of hunters return, laughing and fooling about while carrying foxes and bears. They also caught a few weasels, which the children and others use as pets. Skâda, a tracker, is among them.

After they unload the carts. The group walks over to you and the other skin painters, asking for a fresh-up of their designs. You sit down on one of the stools with a little bowl of white ink and a brush.

Skâda sits in front of you with a smile. His old designs were dull and faded.