sulukinak had climbed the glacier. she had gone beyond the caverns and discovered a way to go even higher, until all that lay before her was ice and snow, and she could look down from the high places to see the rolling fog and taste the shifting air, which told of coming snow, and feel the sun's warmth.
she did not see many others here. she had not found signs of any of the newcomers this far up the glacier, and was glad. although morningsong was small it felt too crowded to her, and so suddenly, and she needed to get away from those she did not know or trust.
the sloping landscape was dangerous to hike, but sulukinak did not think about that. she felt the burn of her muscles as she worked her way along and when she finally came to rest, she had perched herself upon the hillside with a good view of the horizon where the sea had become a black smudge.
The glacier was not the spine, and Dutch did not spend much time at the peaks of their mountain. Even so, he had cut his teeth on climbs like this, and so he thought nothing of following Sulukinak's trail up to a high crest.
The panther watched her for a time, his chest tight for reasons he could not explain.
When he approached, it was to sit silently beside her. There was much to see, but his focus was drawn continually to Sulukinak's face.
"You are restless," he said to her. He felt an odd sense of foreboding in these words, but he did not yet allow himself to name the fear in his heart.
what could she find here?
maybe if she sang, her brothers would hear her.
maybe her mother; but she refused to entertain that thought for long. she did not want to invite ghosts to her home.
as she became aware of dutch, sulukinak rose from her seated position and high-stepped towards him - her paws tapping the earth with an eager beat.
restless. yes.
the village is growing.
more bellies to fill, but more importantly to her, more people to study and understand - which was exhausting.
she sniffs at him as she wedges close; wondering who has caught his eye the most out of the many.
They resettled, the panther shifting to accommodate Sulukinak's nearness. The solidity of her took away some of that breathless, haunting feeling in his chest. He let out a soft sigh; relief, maybe, although he could not yet say for what.
"A village must," he replied. He had an idea that she would rather have a small village, or no village at all — but Dutch thought this was an illness to be cured in her more than real preference. Wolves were meant to come together, weren't they?
He still smelled most strongly of Sulukinak, and second most of Fallen Sun. Traces of his hunt with Eira were evident, as was the scent of his father. Dutch didn't notice Sulukinak's curiosity, lost in thought as he was. It did occur to him that she might not have met a few of the newcomers. Two, rather.
"Does this displease you?" he asked.
very little had changed upon dutch. she took comfort in that. to his question she shrugged those narrow shoulders and began to pluck at some tangles in his own.
are villages always in one place?
it didn't make sense. at some point the ice caverns would stop being interesting to look at. the prey would grow aware of their home limits, and easily stay clear.
but, what did she know? she could count the number of times her childhood hunts had worked out well; the ashy taste of carrion was more familiar.
Were they? Dutch didn't know, now that he thought about it. But he said, "I believe Moonglow and Moonspear stay in one place. I am not sure about Moontide."
He thought that Ariadne had probably meant for the village of Moonsong to remain at its namesake — but they were Moonsong no longer and anyway,
"My mother had both her litters at White Spine, high in the mountains," he said, a little smile on his face. "We would grow there until we had half a year, and then she would take us down the mountain, to a pack called Round Valley. And they moved often, 'round and 'round the valley floor. Only the mothers made dens, and the rest slept under the stars."
He liked the location of the glacier. It was close to Valiant. Close to Chakliux.
"We will have to let the mothers decide if the village should move in the summertime," was the point he'd been getting at. "Since the journey will be most dangerous for our children."
she listened. all that sulukinak wanted was to understand. this world she had been thrust in to was vastly different from what she knew, and she had a lot to learn. it was good that dutch was such a patient man - dealing with her ignorance, the silence of some people who lived here, the youth, the changes.
he mentioned mothers - plural. again sulukinak was thinking of the strangers that appeared like ghosts to the borders of home; drawn by his chiefdom, and by the season.
she thought of the women's circle and talk of husbands; piecing things together while dutch explained.
are you to be husband to them all?
it made sense to her. all these women, wanting. the village in need of what they might birth. it was not so strange to think of dutch as father to them all.
that word of her mother's - conclave - flit through her mind.
"No," said the panther, amused by the thought. There was a boorish part of him that even liked the idea of it, but he could not imagine spreading himself so thin. He felt strained as it was, without any wives of his own to contend with. "Nephele wants children more than a husband," he told Sulukinak, wondering if she would see the parallel that he did. Perhaps they would find some common ground. "She will seek a man to lay with her when she comes into her season, but I doubt she will marry him."
He wasn't sure if Sulukinak had met the next woman, but, "Eira, I have turned toward Fallen Sun. He would like a wife, and she would like to be one. I have hope that they will find happiness in each other."
And him?
"There is a woman called Tulugak," he said, watching Sulukinak's face to see if the name was familiar to her. "She was here for a time, and then she was called back to her homeland. But she is on her way back."
A beat of silence, and then,
"I think I will ask if she will marry me."
sulukinak did not want to befriend these women. she did not want to think of nephele with her sharp eyes and strong spine; but, hearing the other one might pair to fallen sun did soften her heart a touch.
perhaps they would be happy, she reasoned. thinking of all the children running in the glacial halls of this place, while charming, brought to mind the habits of her mother - the rituals, the riddles.
they were not upon the sea now, she had to remind herself. this was a place of hollow ice. arnaa was not here, and needed no tribute.
sulukinak held a distant, dark look even as dutch spoke of another woman. they were coming out of the woodwork for him! he then spoke of marriage but the girl was distracted.
her body became stiff, her attention shifting to the horizon line again. frigid. soundless.
It would have been difficult to miss the way she stiffened, given how close they sat. Dutch was not surprised by this reaction, though he was still not sure he understood the full reasoning behind it. She had been possessive of him at times, he thought. And he was a comfort to her. It must surely be unsettling to see change on the horizon. She had already been through much.
This would be enough, he thought. But although she'd told him she wanted no husband, the panther was not sure that he believed her.
"Speak," he said, his voice a soft command.
her first and only instinct was to withdraw.
a lifetime of carefully managing her mother's manic episodes had left her particularly attuned to the rare moments the woman would focus attention on sulukinak for any great length, and to bow to that will.
dutch now commanded her. as much as she wished not to, her voice emerged with answers.
they are... like the hungry men. they want things. they stay until they get them, and then they leave.
she draws a sharp breath, her tongue flicking between her front teeth.
you said you would not be husband, before. you would not have a lodge.
it all seemed contradictory to sulukinak. complicated, unreasonably so. if tulugak also wanted to be a mother that was fine - but why dutch? why all of these women?
her jaw set firmly.
why you? why do they all come for you?
His head tilted. He did not remember that conversation, though he remembered one where he'd said something similar: that he would not take a husband. That he might take a wife someday — which he supposed did imply he would not have need of one this year. This season.
"I am strong and healthy," he replied, his voice wry. "I have a territory, and I have a village. Nephele, perhaps, will take what she wants from us and go. But she will not take me. And Eira, I think, will remain among us. She can teach you things I cannot about motherhood, and women's magic. But she will not have me, either."
A pause.
"It is not wrong to want things, Sulu," he murmured. "But regardless, we are the strong ones, here. They are at our mercy at a time when we can afford to be merciful. Eira will bring children to the hearth of our sunset man, and the rest of us can share in that joy. Nephele may bring new life to the mountain also, but just the same, that serves us as well as it serves her. And Tulugak..."
Dutch lifted a shoulder in an uncertain shrug.
"I do not know what she wants. I fear she returns with sad news of her family. Perhaps all she will want is a friend."
she remembered wrong, of course. her memory had always been fickle; changing to suit her circumstances. changing to protect important shards of her. sulukinak had once been whole - but over time like all glaciers, pieces broke, and fell away.
this place would never be like the everdark. nothing would male sense in its entirety. she had to adapt and to do that she had to understand - but she struggled and did not know why.
it is not wrong to want things.
but you are my friend. my dutch.
now sounding like such a child! and she did withdraw, coiling in to herself rather than being comforted by him. she knew this didn't make sense.
he could be friends with others! he could take wives, be husband. a plume of warm air rose from her and she, agitated, remembered seeing the dancing one [towhee jr] punching snow.
she crunched some, glaring at the shape her paw made as moodily as any teenager. she didn't feel better. there were too many women here and it wasn't fair that they all had eyes on her man! but he wasn't her man, not really.
Dutch watched her in quiet, contemplative frustration. He wished he knew what words would make her feel better. Wished he knew where exactly her dissatisfaction lay. As it was, he could only guess.
"I like being your friend," he said. He liked being her Dutch. "And I like that you are mine."
Was it fear? Was it jealousy? Was it only the influence of the season? The panther's nostrils flared, but he detected no particular change in Sulukinak's scent. She was young yet, and perhaps younger still at heart.
"I want to be married, Sulu," he said after a long moment of thought. "But I will not marry a woman who would try to separate us. Not even Tulugak."
He watched her, his gaze intent. Does that help?
for all the talk she had overheard from the women's circle, and what she had heard from dutch, and what she could piece together with her precocious little mind, marriage wasn't everything but a lot of people focused on it.
sulukinak wished she could understand what it meant, to be married. to be husband. it sounded like a binding, or a promise; it held that sort of ritualistic mystique to it.
dutch promised that he would never let a wife come between them - and sulukinak took that to mean, physically drive her off. until that moment she had her suspicions and then dutch spoke so plainly about it.
i am not going anywhere.
that was her own promise.
The answer soothed his nerves, but in his heart, he still worried. Would Tulugak accept Sulukinak's place in his life? Would his shadow girl adjust well to the changes that might ripple from the union? Part of him thought it might be better to ask her, here and now, to marry him and be done with it.
But she did not want a husband. And Dutch, ultimately, knew that a marriage of convenience would not make him happy, either. Even if it was with someone that he loved.
"Good," said Dutch, his voice soft. "Neither am I."
And if he ever did, he would bring her with him.