Wolf RPG

Moondoe held the weight.

She carried it over her shoulders, rested it against her neck when it became heavier.

Her paws churned up dirt as she made her way to the glacier. In her mouth, an otter, intended to gift to Ariadne for its pelt, and of course as a meal if she wished for it. The tip of her tail bannered high as she moved, her eyes kept peeled for anyone who could lead her to her sister.

In her mouth, the otter. In her mind, news.

Valiant did not plan to stay long, but he would remain until he got the chance to bid his cousin farewell. Not that he was hastening along the panther's trail; rather, he took his time picking his way along the borders, wary from the news that had been so recently imparted on him.

The sound of another's approach raised his hackles, but when the scent that reached him was feminine, the isbjørn let himself relax once more. Even if she did not belong here, he had never met a woman intent on sowing evil.

"You're in an awful hurry," he noted as they drew level with one another. There was a silent question — Is something wrong?

A man drew alongside her. Another frosty giant, and for a moment Vairë wondered where on earth her sister found these men. Did they spring up from the ground the moment she stepped foot on the glacier? 

If so, Vairë should have visited sooner.

She slowed her pace, slinging the otter around to rest over her shoulders to free her mouth for speaking.

I am from Moonglow village. I bring news for my sister, and this otter in congratulations for her own village. She put on her best disarming smile.

I am Vairë. To-be moonwoman.

News, she said. Valiant was always wary of news. The woman carried it only for her sister's ears, however — and Valiant could not decide whether or not he found this ignorance to be bliss. He kept his questions and worries to himself as he returned the woman's smile.

"Valiant," he said in introduction. "I am only visiting — but perhaps I will stay with Moontide."

He gestured for them to walk — "If your sister is Ariadne, I left her not long ago," he said, leading the way back in that direction. "I have a question, though. I hope you won't think too poorly of me for it."

He leaned over to whisper, sotto voce, in her ear:

"What is a moonwoman?"

And then, innocently, eagerly, but with a gleam of mischief in his eye: "Shall I bow?"

Valiant! Oh, this one was one of the men her mother spoke of!

Vairë’s answer was a laugh, stopping for a moment to raise a leg to her mouth to cover it.

Oh no, nothing of the sort! She began to walk again after a moment, ignoring the shiver that wanted to go down her spine at the breath across her ear, remembered even now.

Our mother, Kukutux, is current moonwoman. Leader, alpha, if you want specifics. I am to take her place, eventually. Two-toned eyes glinted mischievously in return.

Unless you like to bow, in which case you are free to do so.

Kukutux — Valiant had heard of this woman. His cousin had insisted they go and visit her soon, but he had not yet been told why. A rebellious part of him wanted to make a poor first impression on her daughter just to throw a wrench in whatever machinations the panther had in mind. Vairë, however, probably did not deserve to be dragged into the middle of this.

"I never pass the chance," he reported, although of course, this was not the truth. It was only an answer to the gleam of mischief in her eyes — something he noted with an odd sense of relief. It was Moontide, he thought. The pallor of loss had been getting to him. He thought too often lately of the grief in his past.

He was interested to learn that this was not only the daughter of the pack leader, but the heir to her throne as well. Not that anyone he'd met this far carried themselves like royalty — he only wondered if Vairë had been chosen from birth, or if there was some aptitude she possessed that her sisters did not.

"I stand to inherit nothing," he told her. "But I will still accept bows and curtsies if anyone feels so inclined. Scraping and lamenting is where I draw the line — no matter how tempting one might find it."

The look he sent her way was stern for all of a moment before he broke into a small, sheepish smile.

Another wheezy little chuckle, though Vairë spoke through it.

So begging and pleading is on the table? It wasn’t very often she felt bold enough to do this, the uncertain ground she stood on turning her into the diplomatic sort from a young age. But, what was a day without a good bit of bantering. 

Vairë turned her gaze out to the glacier itself, eyes picking up little landmarks, small ways to know where she was and where she would be heading. Should she ever come by again in the near future alone, so she could find her way to Ariadne without a guide.

You said you may stay with Moontide? Focus switching back to Valiant, the doe trusted him to lead the way deeper into Moonsong.

Do you enjoy the sea? She had, briefly, but now it held that bittersweet memory of Saltshore upon its beaches.

Ah! She jousted — Valiant relaxed into the conversation with a solemn assertion: "If one is so inclined."

There was a smile still on his face was they lapsed briefly into quietude. He followed her gaze to the glacier, resplendent in the winter sun. The peak behind it drew his eye, and for a moment he felt his grandfather's presence — the man, he thought shrewdly, was laughing at him. Perhaps his father along with him.

"Not a particularly. Not more than any other place," he admitted, stealing a glance in her direction to see if this changed her opinion of him. "I came to the borders and felt something strange — as if someone stood at my back. Someone other than my brother."

Like now, he had more than a suspicion of who that third man was. He did not say as much to Vairë; he did not speak of it to anyone. Not even Dutch.

"I was born in the willows," he told her, nodding toward the rocky mountainside beyong the glacier. "On the other side of the mountains. We grew there and then we played on the great open plains. There is something to like about every place."

He grimaced.

"But not all places have sand," he said. "I will have sand for many years to come. There is always more in my pelt, no matter how hard I shake."

She nodded sagely to his words.

I understand this feeling. I have had it before. Saltshore. The bay. She had felt such wonder in her stomach seeing it, watching the sun glint off the water. It had seemed so unreal to her.

Now she knew it was.

I was born upon the Spine. My anaa, my mother, she raised me there and that is where I have lived since. Beyond a brief stay at the seaside. Then, she broke into a laugh.

Ah, that I do not miss! You will find sand in every place! The only way to get rid of it is to swim, but even that won’t get rid of all of it! You just have to hope eventually, it’s all out by your coat. The thick northern coat they both sported seemed to attract the particles like magnets.

Valiant stilled when she claimed to have felt that third man before, but quickly fell into step once more. He was not the only one who felt the spirits — it would be stranger if he was.

He had not heard much about the this Spine, but he knew that it was where Moonglow resided. He cast a speculative look over their shoulders, measuring the distance between this place and hers, and then trying quickly to calculate how long it might take for him to reach it from the seashores.

"My mother died before I'd seen a year," he told her. "The family split after that. I grew up all over the place. But there — " he halted them, nodding toward the southeast. "There's a hotspring. A good place for a swim in the wintertime. Have you been to see them?"

She was here to visit her sister. Valiant could only imagine how intent he would be on finding her if he where this close to seeing Minnow again. But perhaps another time, he could convince her to accompany him.

He spoke to her of his mother, then of a hot spring to the south. She shook her head with a purse of her lips.

I have never gone that way in these wilds. Curious eyes sought Valiant’s face, as Vairë twisted her ears, one to the side, one up. Like a confused pup.

I have only ever been to the Spine, and to the shore. I was born upon the spine, I left it once to journey north. And then I moved to the shore, only briefly, with my ex husband. Thinking of Rhaegal still hurt, a bruise she couldn’t help but press against to see if it still did.

He left myself and our three children there alone. I moved back home after that.

It was difficult to imagine staying in one place for so very long. Or rather, it was difficult to imagine seeing so few other places. He'd traveled far and wide by his second year, and farther and wider heading now into his fifth. There was something about having all these places under his belt that he liked — it was something he could take pride in when there was little else — but it was an awfully lonely life.

He envied Vairë, just a little. She had so much family around her —

And then he felt stupid for feeling this way when she revealed the status of her marriage. The isbjørn's ears splayed flat in dismay, and his jaw worked for a moment against the urge to say something stupid. It was none of his business, and he hadn't a right to start berating the absent father — but it would've felt good.

"It's good you got family close-by," he said in a low voice, for lack of anything better to say. Rose-gold eyes searched the moondoe's face for answers to unasked questions. "How old are they?" he asked, his nose twitching in renewed interest as he tried to detect their scents on her coat.

She laughed to the question, lowering her face briefly to catch herself, before she looked back to the ice man.

Old enough to give me greys! Then, her smile softened.

Four moons, this moon. Salaksartok, Ipiktok, Nasamiituuq, they all live upon the Spine with me. And have never known a father, only a mother that loved them more than she loved herself.

They grow bigger every day. I see the wolves they will become when I look at them. It would hurt the most when they moved on, but it was how it must be.

I am very thankful to my anaa. She is my true mother. The woman who birthed her was no longer hers, and those cut strings dangled above her healing heart.

Valiant laughed at this rejoinder. "Well, it suits you," he assured her without looking too hard for said gray hairs.

He was visibly startled when he learned their age, and then visibly stymied when he heard their names. They were a mouthful was all, and he wondered if the kids could pronounce them yet at four months old. But he liked the singsong way they rolled off of Vairë's tongue, and the new shimmer of warmth in her voice that Valiant found quietly compelling.

"Do they mean somethin'?" he asked, knowing that Dutch would ask him the same thing, if and when he were to relate them to the other man.

He felt her words deeply when she spoke of her family, and he found himself leaning a fraction closer before he caught himself. He wanted to ask her what she saw in them, but for the moment he only nodded in understanding; Easy was to him what he believed anaa must be to Vairë. "And your kids've got both of you. That's worth a whole lot. And the villages, too."

He looked back toward the glacier and swore, only to wince and sneak a contrite glance at the moondoe. "Pardon," he begged, "It's just I'm keepin' you from your sister, ain't I?" he nodded toward the otter. "If you're in a rush — I could help carry it, if you want."

She smiled.

Yes, they do. Vairë inhaled softly to begin her explanation, drawing up the meanings of the names she had chosen. Each one selected just for the child she gave it to, even if they were more than likely going to go by a nickname until their vocabularies developed enough.

Salaksartok means “is victorious”. Ipiktok is “keen, sharp”. And Nasamiituuq…”blossom that awakens the tundra in springtime”. They have middle names that come from my ex husband’s homeland, but I did not ever glean their meanings from him. The back and forth slice of her tail grew slightly faster when she spoke of them. Then, Valiant looked to the glacier, and she did too. She did not curse, but she did laugh.

Oh no, I’m in no rush. Moonwoman will watch my little stars for the day if necessary. I do need to give this to Ariadne, but I would also love to explore this home she has made for herself. Doing what her older sister could not, more successfully than she ever had. She suddenly didn’t taste that bitterness so much anymore.

Only the last meaning took him by surprise. He committed them all to memory, but lingered over Nasamiituuq's, turning it over in his mind like lyrics to a song. "That's real pretty," he said, but of course, he did not need to tell her what she must already know.

Valiant was pleased when Vairë did not immediately take her leave of him. His expression remained sheepish for a little longer over his slip of manners, but he was pleased all the same to have made her laugh.

"Well, 'haps we could take the long way 'round, then," he suggested, still feeling out whether this was tolerance or enjoyment for the moondoe. "I still ain't seen it all, either. I hear there's seals in the glaciermelt — although I'm not sure how much I trust my source not to pull my leg."

And he was still thinking about Nasamiituuq. It was just real pretty. It made him think —

"There's a place in the east — far, far from here, mind. It's called Nantahala. 'Land of the noon-day sun'. Or to the west there's Cuyamaca. 'Above rain'." He'd spoken before he'd really thought this through. Now he flushed, embarrassed as he explained, "I just always thought if I had a little girl, I'd wanna name her somethin' like that."

Seals, you say? Her mind sharpened, if only for a moment, to think of the fatty creatures. Chakliux was a seal hunter, wasn’t he?

Perhaps he wouldn’t mind passing her some tips for hunting the blubbery animals. They wouldn’t go amiss in the coming dark months. The look of contemplation smoothed into listening, then a little smile. She rolled the names against her tongue, mouthing them to herself.

Those are beautiful names Valiant. Especially Cuyamaca, she thought. The name rested against her breastbone in a flash of heat, and she ducked her head for a moment.

I..I have thought about what I would name my next children. Qannik, “snowflake”, maybe. Or Suraï, “green leaf”. She hadn’t put much thought into it, but some. The village would thrive with new life upon its face.

"So says my brother," Valiant agreed, watching Vairë's face as her expression shifted. Her thoughts were a mystery to him; were seals bad? Funny? Unbelieveable?

She didn't say, and a compliment had him quickly finding something else to look at. Like that rock over there. What a nice rock. Yep. It needed his attention for a good, long moment, and then when Vairë spoke again, he was ready to look once more at her scarred face.

"They're very pretty," he told her, and he meant it! But — "But those are a lot shorter than the first three. I think you gotta keep goin' grand, darlin'. Elsewise they might get jealous of their older siblings."

He said this with such assurance that it was hard to tell if he was serious or not — but, if Vairë looked, there was a sparkle of mirth in his eyes.

Were Vairë anything other than composed in this moment, she would have dropped to her knees with a squeal hearing “darlin” from that rough-accented tongue. As it was, her skin prickled with heat, though she tried not to let it show.

She made a spectacle of raising her paw to her chin, and humming as if thinking.

Of course, you’re right! Biisaiyowaqï, then. “Clever, one who solves problems”. Or Ikniqpalagaqï, “lightning in the sky”. Massalerauvok if nothing else works, “snow filled with water”. Off the top of her head, those were the longest names she could produce.

One of her eyes shot to Valiant in a side eye, trying to judge his reaction before she went on an entire side spiel about long names. Then, she flicked her eyes forward again. She didn’t know much about the culture her own name came from, if any. Maybe Fjall would, though that made her stomach twist at the thought. It shouldn’t be her little brother explaining a culture she had never experienced before, but there was little to be done about that.

A broad grin that he was almost entirely unaware of curved his mouth as he watched her "think". The anticipation was as long as the names she shared, which were all just as complex as the ones she'd actually given her children. But —

"That middle one," he said, "Iniqpala... say it again for me? But slow-like."

Lightning in the sky. He liked that one. He repeated it to himself, lips moving soundlessly to form a word he was not sure he could actually pronounce. But it seemed important to learn it, for some reason.

"Rappahannock," he said, almost as an afterthought. "Where the tide ebbs and flows. That's what I'd call a boy, I think."

He didn't spend long hours thinking about these things. It hurt him if he wasn't careful with it, and he wasn't being careful, now. But it was far less melancholy to talk about it with company, and too, he realized he'd never said these names to another before. They were just words he'd heard by chance; words he'd murmured to himself, soundless until now, while no one else was watching.

Ikniqpalagaqï.

If Valiant felt an odd prickle down his spine, it was probably just the glacial breeze.

Ikniqpalagaqï She repeated it, slower this time, sounding out the word so he might repeat it too. The language her anaa spoke, the sunshine tongue that her family used, was different than the names Valiant gave. She wished she could learn more, could dig into the meanings and the cultures behind them.

Instead, however, she just smiled.

Where the tide ebbs and flows. It is a beautiful thing, to name a child after somewhere like that. The Saltshore, her salt-encrusted buck. Rhaegal was not her stag, she could admit to herself now.

The name sounded too good to be coincidental, a memorial to a place she had once thought of as home, but she would not gift those feelings to any child.

Vairë thought for a moment.

I have..always had a fondness for deer. It is how I got my title. Tuktu is a name I have considered for that reason. Or Tukturaluk. Caribou.

Yuralria. The name came tumbling from her lips.

A name for a daughter. Dancing one.

"Mh-hm," he agreed on Rappahannock — "It's the name of a river. And it's in a song I always liked."

Vairë had more names still, and Valiant listened the way he sometimes focused on the feel of afternoon sunlight warming his face. It gave him the odd idea that they oughtn't be walking at all, but instead streach out in a meadow somewhere. Restful. Sleepy, almost, except he held on like a child for the end of a bedtime story.

"Tukturaluk. Yuralria," he repeated, testing them out for himself. He liked them, of course. The first one especially — but he was beginning to remember this wasn't a participation sport. His input was not necessary. He told her anyway: "My family's got a different sort of naming convention," he told her. "You got names like mine, and I got a cousin name Brave and an uncle named Dauntless. And then you get some like Greeneyes or Blue Ridge — or Slow Dancer, or Wintersong." He liked these names almost as well as the ones they'd been sharing, but there was something special about a name having a secret meaning. One that needed to be shared to be understood. "Or Dreamgirl," he added, speaking it before he'd decided whether or not he wanted to share.

He cut an odd look to Vairë. Did moonwoman teach her daughters witchcraft? It might explain how loose his tongue felt today.

"Seems as you're gonna have a big family," he said in an effort not to say more embarrassingly pointless things. "If you're gonna use all those names."

Vairë kept her attention apt, focusing on Valiant’s words. Every name committed to a vast memory, every syllable held beneath her tongue. Later, perhaps, she would scrape into the dirt, and speak the names to old doe. Have them hang in the midnight air.

Wintersong… It came out in a mumble, a mere moment where Vairë considered a small child with winter bright fur and a clear voice. Like icicles hanging from pine trees over a glacial lake. Like the promise of a future that she was starting to believe in.

She shook herself after a moment, forcibly drawing her attention back to reality

I..wish to. My mother has raised many, I hope to follow in those footsteps. Moonglow village relies on its young just as much as its old. Moondoe looked over to the spine with a soft sort of affection, the kind you hold for a place, not a person. It would always be home, no matter where she went.

He didn't have Dutch's way with words. He imagined the younger man would have something kind to say about the way the spirits moved, or how good things came to good people, or how the harvest moon had told him she would bear many children to a loyal and handsome hunter. He wanted to say something reassuring, something convincing —

What he wanted, really, was to lay the world at this woman's paws.

What he said was, "You will," with a peculiar kind of certainty. It would be crass to say that a woman as beautiful as her, who held such a position, could not hope to stay single for very long. Suitors would come from the woodwork to throw themselves at her mercy, and one of those was bound to be pleasing to her. The idea disquieted him, even as he tried to feel happy for her — something which he succeeded at through sheer, stubborn bullheadedness.

He made himself smile, and once his solemn expression had cracked, his solemn mood fell away with it.

"She's up there, usually," he said, pointing his nose toward Ariadne's resting place. "Easy to keep track of her while she's got just the three good legs." The delivery was dry and guileless. He pressed on without giving Vairë a chance to laugh, or worse, to not laugh. "Let me know if you wanna see those hotsprings sometime. I'll show you. Maybe you could bring some of your family."

Vaire watched him, for a while. Even after the dismissal. Two toned eyes switched between his own, as though trying to glean what she could from his face. Really, she was pressing the very fabric of his being into her brain, no doubt to spawn very confusing dreams later.

After a while of staring, she smiled, even laughed at his joke.

She is that! Always been hard to keep track of her. Though she and her sister were not the closest, she wanted them to be. Vairë’s tail wagged high again, and she turned her head to the otter, before pausing.

I will find you when I am done. Then, you may show me the glacier, if you want to. She said with a shy smile, before she plucked the otter into her grasp and began to head for her sister’s den.