We stopped at a high point and could see several distinct herds of musk ox in the distance, tiny black dots in a sea of frozen snowy tundra. We made our way close to one, and they soon became nervous and took off, their long shaggy coats bouncing and flowing with each stride. It took a surprisingly long time for the herd to stop, but they finally did, tongues lolling out as they panted from their run. I took one look at the bull and decided I liked him just fine, and we gave chase again, finally catching up to him as he whirled around to face us.
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