Qeya River chirosophist

what was saatsine? there were many bodies here; One Eye was perhaps a lowly guard, a weakened hunter after his wounding. where was the matriarch? was this place worth taking?

such were the thoughts to the man of tartok.

coat gummed with sheep blood; bearing no morsel now, only a stomach full of face. he spied the shadow of One Eye's blindness, wondering if it was a self-imposed ritual or something done against him.

a spell? a curse?

wordless; kukuvrak knows the blood has brought him here.

Saatsine has gained another hunter. This one intrigues her far more than most and, if Chieftain's call is anything to go by, they are worth her time.

Nagruk follows the bloodied sheep trail to the river camp, nostrils flaring as the scent of iron grows stronger until her glacial eyes come to rest on a man. 

Silently, she watches him move, assesses the red that clumps his dark fur in wild spikes. And it is with curiosity then that she reveals herself with a chuff and a flag of her grey stumped tail.

a civilized man might seek the river and cleanse himself of the mess. he was not that. he wore the gore-magic proudly as a second skin.

a shadow shudders; kukuvrak bristles where the fur isn't gummed and red. he spies the woman—not that she was trying to surprise him.

studying one another. kukuvrak approaches with a ribald stare—issitoq called to tartok on the way. calling for you.

nostrils flaring, kukuvrak tries to figure out her origin by scent. what clan? what matriarch's blood pooled in her body? all he found was the scent of One Eye now.

He is a wild thing, dressed in the spoils of a feast. Nagruk is reminded of her first encounter with Saatsine and knows the hunger well, knows the feeling of an approaching stranger and likes that he does not flinch. Instead he bristles like a porcupine might, and she feels her own hackles raise in turn.

Standing tall, she allows him closer until sheepsblood scent is all she can taste in the air. Issitoq - One-Eye - Chieftain - Tartok. The words race through her mind as she steps forward a breath and speaks in northtongue with the next. "Who are you?"

she is his elder by a year, perhaps more. healthy because of her association with the saatsine, maybe. what had drawn a potential issumatar to an act of service rather than conquest?

she speaks, he listens. tension remains.
kukuvrak, son of none. raised by the outcast anisaġniq. these things would mean nothing outside of imauraqutak.

he doesn't back down, expecting the information to be reciprocated; he was glad to have found his own people here, but did not show it. for all kukuvrak knew this was yet another rival.

Glacial eyes scan his figure, sees the frame to hold muscle but finds him lacking. A life of a vagabond, maybe? Confirmed by his next words - she snorts disapprovingly at his lack of lineage. 

"I assume the Chieftain called for me because you are Tartok too." She sees no other reason for the summons, but is largely unimpressed with the results so far. "I am Nagruk, daughter of Issumatar Kayuktuk. Her close second." There is some relief in finding others of her distant kin here, and the thought begins to outweigh her trepidation.

Wetting her nose, she welcomes his morbid perfume and closes the distance between them.

unlike his encounter with the woman at the sheep carcass, kukuvrak does not seek to strike, or push boundaries, as nagruk draws close. he knows his place.

the lineage shared, perhaps he should have recognized the name or held more sanctity for it; however his own lessons had not been in the histories of their people — his had been the forbidden knowledge of blood magic, thought forgotten.

chieftain. the man with one eye, he leads? a grunt croaks from him then. do you lead above him, daughter of kayuktuk?
probing, testing in a different way.

was this not their way?

Nagruk presses forward until her chest meets Kukuvrak's shoulder, feeling the slick of blood pass between them. It was as much a final mark of authority as it was the birth of kinship; would he bare teeth against her? 

"He leads the Sun Clan, yes," her voice rumbles as a dark chin comes to rest atop his head. "I would have him father my cubs this year, if he proves well." She would like to see him raid, she thinks. Let him draw blood besides her.

But Kukuvrak's questions continue. Her jaw tightens and she pulls away sharply. "Not yet. His clan is large and fierce, with many able warriors. Without Tartok, it has been...difficult, to conquer." And difficult to assimilate, though she supposes it is in her nature to be abrasive.

the sun clan. he wondered what god worked through them; by name alone, the white bear Atka came to mind, and kukuvrak knew he was in the right place. if they were truly so numerous and so powerful it stood to reason that nagruk was charmed, that she would seek the seed of One Eye.
perhaps his only use.

nagruk had yet to prove herself in kukuvrak's eye. this initial meeting between bloodlines was a start—but not enough. he would keep an eye upon her exploits.

conquest is not always through blood spilled, but blood shared. he recited, having been told as much by his guardian in boyhood. then, it had been nonsense.

Her teeth click at his comment. "You are wrong. Blood is always spilt in conquest." It was their way of things, did he not know this?

Nagruk thinks of her mother and the tales of a valley slaughtered, the throat of a bear cut by her own teeth. Though she has not raised a fang to Chieftain yet, she knows there will come a day when she must. When the long game she plays is over.

She knows not what branch he hails from to teach him such falsehoods, but the man has earned his name, and that is enough to halt a corrective strike. "Why do you come to Saatsine?" Though she thinks they share the same answer.

his grimace is stained with the old sheep blood, clinging to his gums, as if that is answer enough to her insult of him. he knows blood—has shed blood of kin and prey (they were to him, the same). there was an undercurrent to kukuvrak of faith and intellect, but it was rarely shared among their people.
while he did not fault the woman, he would not be spoken down to as if a child. he held the name.

i seek to conquer land, women, law; i seek everything to be mine. why do you—to fill that womb, or to rule? staring now at the shape of her abdomen as if it were already swollen.
others could serve that purpose. the insinuation wasn't a pleasant one, given his lavicious glare.

Though it is her wish to wipe the smirk off his face, Nagruk's jaw clamps tight as she listens. As most of them did - as she had already guessed - he wished to conquer. 

There were plentiful women here to satiate his hunger, but if it was land he was after, Kukuvrak would not find it so easily. Saatsine did not claim, did not rule; they roamed, and she fixes him a look of scepticism.

"I seek both," she answers, not missing the way his eyes dissect her. Any advances made now would be met with teeth. "There may be others - I am not picky, so long as he shows his strength." It was her duty to the family to ensure any branch settled here would be provided fierce soldiers.

the strength of his appetite, for blood or for flesh, was easy to put aside while in the presence of his people. it was an understanding he had reached early in his life: some were open to his philandering certainly, but tartok was a place of brutality, and it was best to keep that power reserved for easier targets.

nagruk was not yet receptive.

it was clear that they had similar aims; different timelines, perhaps. but they were in agreement, and kukuvrak knew he could not move forward with his own aims if he was alone.

you will have it all, issumatar.

Issumatar.

Her heart flutters, and without Blackfell's caging it soars. Suddenly, Saatsine feels small beneath her paws as a great chasm of possibilities open up before her.

Issumatar.

You will lead them, and they shall follow.

Lips curling in something akin to a smile, her head lowers slightly as she pulls back from Kukuvrak. "Your needs will be met too, brother." Nagruk would assure it, for as long as they ran with the caribou killers. Though already he'd set in motion her desire to be part of something bigger.

"Do you come with others?"

a rumble of pleasure creeps from him.
it is only a matter of time before his appetites are filled.

i traveled with a sister. she was too slow; she depended too much upon her aokatti and less upon the horde. so, no. but we can make more. we can turn those worthy, and given the season—soon there will be children. he spoke of these newborns as resource to be collected, and they were. perhaps those born to One Eye would be of value in that way.

kukuvrak's idea was serious, but his expression was almost like amusement. he studied the woman, wondering about her reaction. tartok thrived on raids in the north. women taken, children, whatever was necessary.

A sister. "Relations bring strength as they bring weakness," she muses idly. Nagruk had never known her birth family, did not remember the eyes of a mother too fearful to raise her. To her, family was born in blood and bonds. But an aokatti should never be paramount. Should never dull one's sense of self.

Kukuvrak talks the truth, but here in Saatsine she has her doubts. Children were malleable, though Nagruk sees little need to take them should she bear her own this year. Not to mention the fury that would befell them should Issitoq find his progeny gone. "We will show our strength, show the Lanzadoii what it means to be Tartok. Those worthy will turn."

Her conviction is firm. "The children will be spared - they may well join us when they grow."

her response doesn't bring any major shift to his demeanor.

the reindeer people are many. they could be taught to raid. he mused this aloud, ruminating over what changes could happen when tartok rises; because there is no doubt in kukuvrak that this will happen. if not from internally, then somewhere more concrete, land of their own.