cen was gone.
with each passing day, red leaf's distress continued to fester, and yet she found she could not bring herself to ask anyone of his whereabouts. some part of her felt she did not deserve to know.
this was what she deserved. isolation. loneliness. raising her son alone.
she could still feel the water in her lungs. she hadn't cared much about the rather persistent and ugly cough until it began to keep her up at night, sometimes waking brave one; and in those moments, she wept as she tried to rock him back to sleep.
she shivers beneath the cool breath of mother sea, content with watching her baby boy from the denmouth with her gangly limbs tucked up close to her belly. but something ensnares his attention, and so she begins to shift, unease settling in her gut. what is it that you see, pamiuqtuugutiga?
the visitor is certainly a surprise. not chakliux or rodyn or tullik, but this time a dark-pelted woman who reminds her starkly of her husband.
oh, hello, a small, polite smile touches her lips, but does not reach her eyes. suspicion begins to brew. how did she know to come here; and why, or how, has she brought meat? have we met before?

i look for cen.
something ugly stirs inside of red leaf, the typically passive woman now shredded with a violent urge to rip the feathery black tail from this woman's hind. the recognition is instantaneous. this was the cousin chakliux had told her about.
i am his wife, a calm, but triumphant statement as she silently motions for her boy to return to her; the quiet assertion of her place within cen's bubble. red leaf. and this is our son, ghelan.
i'm afraid i cannot tell you where he is, because i do not know. i think he may be tracking the herds, or something. we followed them here, she tries to hide her concern, pitching up her voice to hide the hoarseness that stemmed from her cough. but you're welcome to-- stay, if you'd like. so i may learn what exists between you and my husband.