set for the morning of the 24th, ish
There are scents leading up here!
Lilitu, still reeling from the carnage on the mountain, felt a little bit better at the prospect of living, breathing wolves. Even more so when she recognized the scent along the border.
It was that woman from the lake! She tossed her head excitedly back to (
@Ibis or
@Bridget idk y'all can both join of you want) the adult accompanying her and smiled.
@Kukutux,
she repeated, remembering the strange and lovely name. And there were others, too, scents she didn't know. Either way, some sort of group had set up shop here, and she was eager to make new friends.
Stopping respectfully at the edge of their claim, Lilitu let out a lilting howl (likely to the consternation of her guardian(s)) and waited to be received, her mood already shifting for the better.
It was not her place to allow or deny dispersals who might seek a place in Kukutux's ranks nor was it she they sought after. Nonetheless, the artisan is drawn forth by the summons with a hint of concern upon hearing the way the call strained and cracked with a warbling customary of youth -- thinking perhaps a lost child might've found their way into the mountains.
Her worries are assauged at the sight of a lanky adolescent (in place of the pup she had been mentally fretting over), accompanied by an older woman -- her dam or aunt perhaps. "Greetings," was all Lótë said as she stopped before them, the Eta's tail giving a few slow wags as she drank in the clan-scent of them. She wondered after what they might be here for but knew her curiosity was more likely to be sated by allowing them to speak freely than by assailing them with questions.
The woman that answered her call was not familiar to her, but Lilitu grinned all the same, tail wagging in exuberant greeting. Hi!
she chirped. Is Ku— uh, Kuku-kux. . .here?
Shoot, she had butchered that, she thought. Ah, well, she assumed the wolf would know who she was referring to.
She looked briefly around, wondering where Bridget was at. Her mother had opted mostly to stay behind, which she didn't like—she had left to be close to Ibis, after all. But there was no arguing with Mama, especially not now, and she was glad to have been a part of the search party, especially if it meant meeting new friends.
After a few seconds of interrogative glancing, Lilitu turned back to the sentinel, waiting for her response.
"Ah," the sapling-boned sylph soughed in understanding, turning away from the distant crumble of Moonspear to glance back in the direction that the ulaq lay. Her gaze returned to the youth and her guardian, her words hinting at apology as they fell like a pattering of raindrops: "Yes, but I am afraid that she is too injured to reach our borders right now. And she is in mourning with her daughter." The mouse's fawn-soft ears splayed momentarily as her evergreen eyes fell to the needle-strewn earth in a respectful display -- reminded again of the tragedy that their leaders had suffered.
"I could bring her a message if you'd like?" She was reluctant to disturb the Moon and Star but Sialuk seemed to have taken up the face of necessary interactions between the duo of northrons during the time of silence and songs. Surely Lótë could find the Beta at least to pass along the visitors' words. "And you would always be welcome to come back again sometime, hopefully in the future Kukutux will be well enough to answer your call for herself," the daughter with the star-kissed brow offered with a diffident dip of her head.
Mourning?
Lilitu asked blankly. It hit her after a moment. Oh.
Kukutux had said she was from the mountain, and they had just left a war zone of a peak. That. . .probably explained that.
She pursed her lips, trying to get past the awkwardness of her naivete. Just say Lilitu came by to say hi,
she decided, then added, Um, Ibis's daughter.
Her mother had very much ran the show in that meeting; Lilitu, to her chagrin, had been a background character.
The girl returned her eyes to the sentry, smiling. What's this place called? It's beautiful.
And should be even prettier, if the leaves and flowers ever came back.
"I will let her know you were here and that you send your greetings," the Eta promised dutifully, perhaps a tad too formally as her fawnskin crown dipped gently in a gesture of good faith -- respect despite Lilitu's age. Then, a kind smile unfolded like a worn note passed between lovesick children over her lips. She cast an admiring gaze at the rings of blackpine and the crags of greystone -- her home, she reminded herself proudly. "This is village Moonglow, home to those who follow the moon and stars," the mouse soughed, turning back to the girl with a faint quirk of her lips again. "I think when spring returns you might like visiting and seeing the forests, if Kukutux and Sialuk approve, of course. It will surely be a sight then."