The title inspired a stirring of the fallow agouti's tail -- grateful again to have found a fast friend in the moondrop -- as she drifted to a stop beyond the wisewoman's threshold. She set the blooms of cheerful yellow upon the ground between them, settling on fawn haunches before answering: "The name in my language is quite long." It was said with some amusement. "But I have heard it called 'creeping jenny' or 'yellow parsley'."
"It is poisonous," she warned gently, gesturing to the long stem which she had carried it by. The blossoms themselves seemed to be the deadly part and only when ingested. "But only if eaten. It is mostly harmless and quite pretty in my opinion," the dove explained. She trusted that the moonwife was responsible enough to handle a plant properly -- she managed a pack and had raised children before. "It looks quite like chickweed, which healers often use."
The fawn-pelted agouti paused for a moment, hesitant to speak the tongue she had given up with her name. But she had found a good friend in Kukutux, a sister, and found that she could not say no -- she trusted the Moon with her mother's tongue. "Jeninnimë. Parslëimme. Malin." she offered each of the titles by turn, her octaves lilting naturally in the melodic tones of her former people as if she had never lost her accent.
"Aye," she agreed softly, with a small clearing of her throat as her gaze moved back to the plant momentarily -- feeling as if she had admitted to some long-kept secret. "Chickweed is often used to treat greencough. And I have heard that it is good for swelling and relieving arthritic pains," she offered, though she was no expert when it came to healing. This just happened to be a tidbit she had picked up, for the ecologist figured it was prudent that all wolves should know some basic first aid.
For a second, the two-year stiffened -- wide, fearful optics flying to Kukutux's moonlit features. Her peridots flickered, scanning for some sign that the wisewoman knew the heavy things that weighed upon her soul. But there was nothing to be found and the girl's eyes slid away again, heart pounding an uneven rhythm of relief. The words sank in then, her eyes misting lightly with a different relief -- fervently hoping it was true before she again buried Elenwë's daughter.
"I'm glad you like it," she said, lips quirking lightly. The silence settled for a moment before the herd-stalker found the courage to approach the topic she'd come to speak of. "Kukutux, it's my desire to serve as Moonglow's keeper of lore. I was wondering...would you tell me about Moonglow's history? How you came to found the pack and where its traditions come from?"
"If it is too painful...you can always say no," Lótë reassured, already knowing part of the story about how Moonglow had come to be. The last thing she wanted was to make the Moon relive Moonspear's ruin in the midst of her healing.
Lótë became enwrapped in the tale as Kukutux wove it, wondering silently with awe if perhaps the matchmaker had not chosen the wrong profession. This was not to say that she was not an exceptional healer or wisewoman to their tribe but as she spoke, the greenpaw felt she was transported back in time to the Land of Many Elms. In her mind's eye, an elder figure -- a wizened woman with rheumy eyes and a loose fold of skin at her underbelly from having borne many children -- flickered, her features having been lovingly painted by one daughter or another, bright with color and life as she regaled their people with fables of their origin.
The beginning sent a spike of concern through her, hearing how Kukutux had been traded to Moonspear but she was relieved to hear how the raindrop's former pack mates had been kind. How she had found a husband and even herself through her marriage to the man she called blackfox -- a man who took on the face of Antares in her head, older though and somewhat in shadow, only a vague resemblance, as if she could picture him -- and in bringing her customs to her newfound home as she would later do in Moonglow.
When the duck spoke of the mountain's end, the morning dove felt she could sense Kukutux's grief echoing in her chest -- though it could not feel so great as what the Alpha had lost when Moonspear fell. Husband and child, kin and home. Or maybe it was her own, the grief of a girl who had once lost all and been left in the hands of a monster. She could not say for sure.
"Thank you for telling me this." The doe spoke only when Kukutux had fallen silent and seemed to have no more to say, dipping her head in a gesture of gratitude and respect. She felt she understood the woman better and their tribe as a whole too, a newfound pride ringing through her for what she had helped to build. She felt a bond of loyalty forge to the family her Alpha mentioned, to the Ostrega bloodline and the legacy they had founded within Teekon. That Kukutux had continued. Perhaps she was not an Ostrega herself but she was moonwolf all the same now.
"I think your loved ones would be proud of you, Kukutux," she murmured softly, carefully. "You have honored them well by continuing to live and thrive. I think they would have wanted you to go on and try to find happiness again."
"We will continue to honor them, all of Moonglow. Moonspear will never be forgotten and the Ostregas will live on through you and Sialuk, Zane and your kin. Even by us, even if we don't bear your surname," she promised with a small smile, hoping it might comfort the northron even a little. Her children would be raised alongside Kukutux's, Sialuk was to train to bring them into this world. It went without saying that Adrastus was unfalteringly loyal to the Moon and Star of the village. Her family would be entangled with Kukutux's for as long as both stood.
The doe's jaw slackened slightly, peridots going wide for a heartbeat when her words caused the matchmaker to cry. Her own pale emeralds glossed over a moment later, ears folding back as she padded to the Moon's side and let her side press flush against Kukutux's. The closest gesture a wolf had for providing a shoulder to cry on. She touched her temple briefly against the duck's alabaster shoulder, offering this gesture of comfort in place of words.
It was hard to believe so much grief and loss could be worth meeting her, but she smiled gently -- having to fight back tears of her own pain. How long since anyone had been happy to see her, let alone keep her company? "I'm grateful to have met you as well. I never had a sister and now I have found several," she laughed lightly, the noise still a bit wet as if clogged with unshed tears, thinking of Sialuk and Keyni and even Shikoba.
Her smile turned a bit shy, green gaze flitting to the trees as her thoughts turned to the spiritbear. "I think perhaps the spirits blessed me. I could love him, very easily." If she didn't already that was. "Aiolos is blessed to have yours as well."
"I think you once said that you cannot marry as Moon to the village...might I ask why, if you are not tired of speaking of such things, that is?" The two-year asked, somewhat hesitantly. "Why can't a woman be both?" She didn't quite understand why Kukutux was allowed to bear Aiolos' cubs but was forbidden from marrying him if she so desired.
"I understand," Lótë demurred softly, offering another brush of comfort to the Moon's winter pelt. She supposed she didn't really, never having been married before. But she and Adrastus were set to be wed and would eventually have children of their own; the cloudberry tried to picture losing him, or the shadowed faces of their unborn children, and felt her heart shudder with a cold shiver. She pushed the horrid thought away, unable to bear even this sliver of Kukutux's pain.
She felt that the conversation had come to a close, that the spiritwoman had grown weary of their topics. And even the birdcaller had fatigued of such heavy, draining subjects -- she did not want to keep prying for information. More would come in time, as the Ostrega women healed and grew more comfortable with speaking of such things. Or perhaps they would not, that was okay too. There were other sources Lótë might seek out -- Keyni had been a part of the pack that was allied with Moonspear. Even if she hadn't been there long or didn't know much about its history, the former Firefly was still worth seeking out.
"What were you doing when I came?" she asked the ivory she-wolf, glancing back at the arrangement of food and herbs. "I could help with the drying." She gave a gentle dip of her head, as if to silently say that she would also leave if the Alpha wished to be alone.
It was good to abandon sorrow for the easy and soothing work of cutting the meat and arranging everything neatly to dry. Girlish laughter ensued as the moonwife relayed the song and attempted to teach Lótë the lyrics — which she stumbled over and butchered in her first attempts. Thankfully, Kukutux was patient and both were able to find good humor in the herd-watcher’s mispronunciations.
Even after she had left her village-sister’s ulaq, the dove found herself humming the tune softly beneath her breath as she wound her way through the valleys of the Spine — occasionally vocalizing the words with a soft smile, the song whispering through the pines.