Two now existed within Rusalka that knew of Maegi; family to him, only not by blood. Would they know of his father, too, or was the man’s existence tied strictly to the pallid woman’s own? There were questions that danced through his mind each night that followed Rowan’s arrival, ones he sought the answers to and others he wished to cast aside. How did they know Maegi—how long ago did they know her? How many answers would either of them hold? There was so much that he wanted—needed—to know and yet… time was able to slip away so easily, the days dragging by and his inquiries remaining unspoken, unanswered.

Another day was set to go by, more time to seek out answers lost. The Sun was beginning to lower in the sky, seeking shelter below the horizon. She cast the moor in warm hues of orange whilst the sky overhead wore a blanket of yellows and pinks, intertwined and morphing. In the hours to come the Sun would be no more, fleeing from the Moon as She always would; he recalled the story of their origins with ease, the details never sitting well with him. But the scene itself, watching as the Sun continued to evade the Moon, was mesmerising—he could stand there and watch it until the cycle completed itself, and likely would have, if not for the uppik.

A call overhead and a flutter of wings as she landed atop his back, talons entangled within his thick pelt, hardly scraping his skin. He turned his head to glance back at her curiously, wondering what she was up to—but before he could ask, she was once again soaring through the skies, leaving him there in his confusion.

Until it was broken by the sound of footfalls, steady and drawing nearer to his location. Turning, Aningan faced the direction of the sound, waiting to greet the other—who, before long, was revealed to be Tundra. “Are you looking for something?” he asked with an owlish tilt to his head. Perhaps she was the uppik’s reason for alerting him, drawing him out of his own thoughts to return to reality.