He did not wait long after his hearth had grown quiet before he set about emptying it. Leaving behind only the bedding Lótë had used and the tufts of her fur that still smelled of the children, he pulled free the lynx pelt and an otter pelt, leaving the others in the den.
Anything Lótë might have left behind in terms of paints or favourite pelts fell prey to the same desecration as the rest of the den. He purged every last bit of fluid and excrement he had within him in a bid to cast off whatever cursed spirit had given him a child with a defect. The lynx and otter pelts, placed just at the entrance of the den and in full sight, received the majority of the abuse. He split his soul from Lótë, and would make himself once more an unmarried man.
Discreetly, the man moved toward the nearest border, knowing that others would likely be preoccupied with hearing Lótë's frenetic stories. Perhaps next time, he would get to know a woman better so he might be less likely to end up with another hysterical mess. What a shame. She'd been pretty- but obviously had not come from good stock.
He passed the borders with intention in his step, and moved off into the night, content to leave behind the destruction of his ulaq and once treasured pelts as his adieu. He would not go far before finding a river that would be his escape route- and with cool, dark river waters splashing up to his elbows, he would travel for hours on end so that his trail might be forever lost to them.
Anything Lótë might have left behind in terms of paints or favourite pelts fell prey to the same desecration as the rest of the den. He purged every last bit of fluid and excrement he had within him in a bid to cast off whatever cursed spirit had given him a child with a defect. The lynx and otter pelts, placed just at the entrance of the den and in full sight, received the majority of the abuse. He split his soul from Lótë, and would make himself once more an unmarried man.
Discreetly, the man moved toward the nearest border, knowing that others would likely be preoccupied with hearing Lótë's frenetic stories. Perhaps next time, he would get to know a woman better so he might be less likely to end up with another hysterical mess. What a shame. She'd been pretty- but obviously had not come from good stock.
He passed the borders with intention in his step, and moved off into the night, content to leave behind the destruction of his ulaq and once treasured pelts as his adieu. He would not go far before finding a river that would be his escape route- and with cool, dark river waters splashing up to his elbows, he would travel for hours on end so that his trail might be forever lost to them.
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