Rising Sun Valley säsìlpey

maybe @Faust : )

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Tsu'tseya no longer walks alone. The boy had found hope and safety between Toruk and his Moondancer. Where they carved through the thickest of snow, he trailed not far behind. Always within their peripherals, even if he strayed to follow a hollow trail of Seäe. He always found nothing, and he always returned. Reaching for the warmth of the pale woman between tears he tries to hide.

They make him feel less alone, but the hole within his heart Seäe left in his disappearance never mended. There were nights, when the shadow and his woman sought one another’s warmth, where he’d silently weep into his bed if snowfall. There were so many prayers he whispered in-between tiring steps, though he feared Great Mother had turned a deaf ear.

He often finds himself watching Toruk. Wishing to garner enough bravery to breach closer, but always falling short. Often in awe, he marveled Uktark's strength. Envied it, even. A pillar of what he wishes to be, if only grief hadn't gripped him so tight. If only he didn't fear so much.

Today, as eclipse shrouded the plains in warmth and gold, he sought Uktark. He sought his wisdom, his unity. From the bottom of a slope, the boy searched the crest.

uktark stood at the crest, a dark cut against the gold-washed ridgeline, the wind combing through his fur like slowmoving ghosts. he did not look back at first—he didn’t need to. the boy’s small weight on the snow, the uneven rhythm of his breath, the way grief dragged at his steps… he knew it all as clearly as scent.
when tsu’tseya’s searching gaze finally reached him, uktark’s head turned. he held the boy’s eyes from above, assessing him, seeing if he'd changed since the journey south; albeit the pines were still covered in snow.
a short rumble left his chest, deep and low, a summons without force.
come.
the single word rolled out like stone shifting, leaving no room for doubt.
he waited there—
still as the ridge,
solid as the cold beneath them—
making space at his flank for the boy to stand, should he choose it.

Tsu'tseya was, before his disappearance from the clan, an obedient son. When Uktark calls, he comes. Fighting with the compact snow to climb the bend, until he comes to sit at within that strong shadow. Perhaps he is meek, or perhaps its submission that's been carved into his bones—he meets Uktark's eyes once, before they search the horizon. Foolishly, he still hoped to see Seäe standing before the sun.

There is nothing but blanketed trees. This land is cold, but it's full. He's left to wonder if this place is where Toruk wanted to stake his claim. And then, he wonders if there would be room for him, should he decide to stay. He likes Moondancer, and there's always a quiet awe whenever he casts Uktark a fleeting gaze.

He envies Uktark's strength, in the ways a boy wishes to forge himself a soldier. Tsu is fearful, doubtful. He is everything the shadow isn't.

"You no fear. My people call this Toruk. Great warrior, shadow." He spoke quietly.

"I want no fear, too."

uktark’s jaw tightened at the name, a rough huff pushing from his chest before the sound could soften into anything else. he did not look down at the boy at first. his eyes stayed on the treeline, on the ridges that held and broke the wind.
toruk, he repeated once, low. then his head turned, just enough for one dark eye to pin tsu’tseya in place.
i am sangilak, he said. not loud. not proud. fact. where i come from.
the boy’s wanting sat plain in the air between them. wanting to be strong. wanting not to fear. uktark studied him for a long beat, measuring bone and breath and the way grief bent him without snapping him yet.
fear stays, he rumbled. you walk anyway.
his shoulder shifted, making space at his side—not invitation, not promise. opportunity.
that is how.