Ouroboros Spine ommatik ∻

@Lótë. that had been her name; though kukutux knew her to be slight and beautiful, the period of mourning had gathered all of her energies. she stood near a series of naked shrubs that would one day soon sprout with tiny green leaves, and bring forth fruit. paunngâkuttik.

noting their position, kukutux glanced back toward the ulaq. now that she had gathered a count of who was present, she considered moving her locale nearer to them. a small village of the domed dens; she saw it in her mind's eye, moving gingerly along with an unwarranted restlessness.

She had not seen Kukutux since Sialuk had first brought her to the Spine, long ago or so it felt though she knew it had been less than half of a moon's phases since then. She imagined the mother was still wounded, nursing her broken leg and her grief alike within the ulaq. The rabbit had stayed away out of respect, offering a dip of her head to the mourning Sialuk in a gesture of comfort when she had come across the silent raindrop during their time of songs. Now though, the duo seemed to be rejoining the small village they had founded -- their scents winding through the territory. 

Similarly, the sight of a pristine, recently bathed Kukutux encouraged her to the idea that all would be alright with the two. They would hurt, the yearling knew for she also carried the pain of losing all that you held dear, but they would rise and set with the sun. Hoping to not inadvertently disturb the Moon, the  botanist let out a rasping chuff as she padded towards their Alpha, moving to walk alongside her if her company was not turned away.

the vision that materialized held the face of warm, smooth beauty. she did not have so many years as kukutux, though more than sialuk; she was upon the edge of womanhood, blossoming toward it as the aupaluttanguak flourished beneath the golden light of the growing sun.

despite the new relieving purity of her pale coat, kukutux suddenly felt very aged, tired, a woman who had been wrapped in the ragged cloak of a widow before she was ready. a second time, the inner spirit snapped, and anguish flushed along the base of her spine.

but kukutux replaced the wonder in her greenstone eyes with a look of invitation; no matter her own tenuous position as reluctant wise-mother to moonglow, the young husbandless longed for the company of the feminine, longed to be encircled as she had upon the island.

"this has become your home," a gentle observation edged in the lasting salt of tears.

What remained of the snow crunched, slushed beneath their pawpads as she followed alongside the young widow -- who Aiwë could not think of as elder or wizened just yet though she held the survivor in great esteem -- settling into the silence comfortably. Birds of a feather, like the brown and white of the ptarmigan. "It has," the birdcaller agreed, perhaps needlessly, lilt as soft as the still-chilled breezes soughing in the pines. It was almost startling how easily she had found her place on the ring of mountains, how readily she settled amongst their numbers. As if she had truly never been Aiwëndil at all, she blinks the thought away as if the patchwork of snow and mud and grass before her can wipe away the memories within. 

"I'm glad. To be here, I mean," she murmurs, peridot jewels sweeping towards the matchmaker for a moment. Her lips curl in a small smile of extended warmth, the flicker reaching to the cool green gems. 

her voice was sweet cloudberry tea; kukutux settled herself beneath the raw branches and invited lótë to rest with her if she so chose. "i am glad that you are here." her gaze tightened with the want to shift in the direction of moonspear, but many days of gazing had proven to the duck that her view would be unchanged.

a breath swelling the heartbruised pain; she tipped her newly healed muzzle toward her companion with an answering smile into the firstgrass hue of the lovely eyes —

why did she think of agana now?

"i think it is a place of many blessings, this village that you all have helped sialuk and i to build."

Aiwëndil's features softened the tiniest bit, noting the way the pale dove's jade optics flinched as she said the words -- wondering if perhaps the sentence were finished in the Moon's head silently, that she would be more glad to have her family here.  Aiwë said nothing, for such thoughts would be useless to the mother and her daughter now. There was only tomorrow, only what kin they had rallied and strangers like the mouse that had unknowingly answered their grief. 

"I hope so. It will be nice, I think, to see it flourish with the spring. To see it green and filled with life," the aspiring Naturalist agreed softly, casting an admiring gaze to the treeline and the prospects of the future. Idly, she wondered if the glade would grow as more wolves flocked to the Spine, or as couples took up together and children were born. This seemed unlikely though -- the other females were either too young and the birdcaller had a hunch that it might be some time before Kukutux ever took another husband or bore more children. She would not ask for it was undoubtedly insensitive. Still, that only left she and Norah -- whom she could not speak for on terms of willingness to reproduce -- but the dove doubted whether she would be granted the right to breed when her season came, low as she was in the ranks. 

"That reminds me," the girl said as she pulled herself from her rambling thoughts, "I have located the herd that lives here. They have fled the wood for the moment, they seem to be spooked by our presence here. I think they will return soon as the land was ravaged by the strange storm Sialuk spoke of." 

kukutux had borne thought akin to the silently unvoiced, though hers had not been half so formed. for she knew her role now as mother-moon to the glowing wolves, and sialuk to follow her. it was good to hear the voice of her daughter spoken with respect; silently she shifted lótë more warmly inside her mind.

"it is good that you have found them. i will ask the spirits to guide them back under your eyes." quietly she wondered with a shy cast to her profile if the — so many names could she give to lótë — niviaksrak would want to hear the small pieces of what the duck had gleaned. small pieces, small words, fragments of prayers she remembered from listening guiltily to the men who saw the spirit world.

even now, kukutux was unsure she should speak such aloud, and did not.

"this year i intend for sialuk to learn the ways of one who helps to bring children into the world." the word evaded her; she trusted the other would understand. jadegaze shifting to find the silken edge of her companion's cheek. "she will also learn from me to be atsak. maker of matches."

a gravid silence to follow. she set her attention upon the meltwater horizon.

Aiwëndil felt her own gems of washed out jade lingering on the distant fringes of her eyesight, discreet glances occasionally cast sidelong to take in the half moon phases of the mother's pale features. She gave a single, absent nod as she considered the words that met her ears. Perhaps she had been wrong, maybe Kukutux and Norah did mean to breed and Sialuk would assist in their pregnancies and deliveries. The tracker made no assumptions but wondered after what the wisewoman's words could mean for the future of Moonglow.

"My former clan follow the spirits as well. Our ancestors and the spirits of all things around us. The elder-kin of the tribe would sit and speak with the spirits to divine matches," the doe softly imparted, a shadow clinging to her tongue relentlessly. Always tactful to share but never too much. Just enough that no one questioned the vagabond's migration to this land. 

"Do you speak with spirits?" the words were posed with hesitance, wondering if it might be rude to ask.

the other spoke; the moon listened. pleasure and relief like honeywine spread slowly across her features. "in this we are sisters." she breathed in, a silent prayer of gratitude lifting from the back of her mind skyward to sedna. "where i am from, women are not allowed to be aijatkugnaii," watching carefully to see if the word or the practice sparked familiarity in the other.

"but when i lived alone in these lands, i met a man who wore flesh but had empty eyes. he was spirit. we spoke. i listened to the old men even when i was not meant to hear," kukutux admitted with a shy, conspiratorial cast to her features that softened away the tension and grief of the last weeks if only for a moment.

"i know the sacred prayers and songs. so i say yes. i speak to them, but only sometimes."

Unfortunately, though their cultures shared some similarities or so it seemed, the word was foreign to the girl. She had heard others like it before, and knew of the tundrians that lay further to the north than her former people, but she had never learned their tongue. Still, her fallow shoulders of sandstone inched inwards, curling as she leaned forward with interest to drink in the words -- jade gems bright as something familiar, like kinship, curled at her lips ever so slightly.

"I knew a man like that once. But he was not spiritual." And that was all that she would say about that. Her uncle was not like Kukutux, the rabbit's spring eyes flitting from the frosted edges of her to the ice that clung to the earth. She did not say so but she was relieved that the woman had her own shadows dancing across her tongue -- those of this world and others unseen to the simple artisan. 

the cloudberry was cautious, polite. it put in the duck's mind how she had met keyni, and in one turn of a meeting, had learned of what they had shared. each of them might share fondly in one another, the snowbird considered. "i will ask what you mean to become to moonglow, lótë."

a soft word, not meant to test or tempt the other woman. kukutux wished only to gain a measure of what was meant to each heart inside this village. to know their wants, their desires, their fears; that was the role and responsibility of wisewoman and moonmother.

The artisan considered a moment, thoughts gone still with pondering -- giving the words the full exploration she felt they merited. She had fled Elennanórë as little more than a girl, in that limbo between child and woman before she could count even one change of seasons. Fear had driven her, desperation had kept her alive. Survival had been paramount above all else. Now that she could afford to slow her relentless gait across the land, now that she could settle and take a breath, who and what was she meant to become?  Lótë was not the name she had been born with, this life was not the one she might've lived otherwise. It was liberating to think of the endless possibilities -- though terrifying too.

"You are Moon. Sialuk is the Star. Raimo, the Spear," she lilted softly, meanderingly. "I am only Lótë." Follower, subordinate, woman of their tribe. "I wish for no large part. I was never built for power or to lead -- in anything. I would be as the Land to Moonglow, offering the ability to grow and flourish. Or as the Trees, steadfast sentinels watching the herds as they roam and the time as it passes." She would be the background, a backbone on which Moonglow and the entirety of the Spine could rely on. Kukutux would find her heart overgrown with moss and steeped in creekwater, timeless and simple in its desires. She wanted nothing more than to become a part of the people that had sprung up around her, to settle and find family.

kukuux did not think she had ever heard the woman speak so in so long a time. her breath was soft, eyes wondering, lips gently parted as she drank in the sudden revelations. pale robes falling from shy shoulders; lótë referred to herself as only and the moonwoman shook her head.

but she did not speak, not until several heartbeats of time had followed the end of the cloudtea wolf's voice. trees. land. "you will be both. miminnak: a tree reaching down into the earth." like herself, she saw how lótë had already made a kinship tie with the blood of the world itself, and so it would be in this place.

raimo. the sound of his name slid a glissade of sensation across the end of her bones.

"you cannot say you are nothing, not when you are part of moonglow." voice kind, eyes glimmering with the gratitude felt for the cloudberry woman's continuance here, in their village.

The cloudberry dipped her head in a slow gesture, as if accepting this role readily as it was placed upon her thin shoulders. "Apologies," she murmured, gems of pallid emerald downcast as her rabbitskin ears drifted back in remorse. "I did not mean nothing. Just...only. I like only," the girl wisped reassuringly, allowing her lips to quirk up faintly at the corners. Only was..simple. Safe. She would always be the daughter of the woman with the star-kissed brow, always the girl from the Land of Many Elms in her heart. But here, she could just be Lótë -- woman. Greenthumb. Herdstalker. Teacher. Student. Mother..Wife, maybe. That was enough to satisfy her weary heart.

only.

kukutux nodded, pale features brightening in with knowledge. this was a good thing, to say i am only, not i am nothing. there was no need for apologies, and she reached to brush the painter's shoulder with her own muzzle. "ihinak," the woman said softly.

"will you come with me to the lake, lótë?" she asked shyly, relieved and suffused with a deep thanks to the listening spirits for giving her the potential of a sister in this woman.

The mouse's fallow ears swiveled towards the pallid Moon slowly in gentle curiosity, wondering after the meaning of the word which seemed to be a reassurance of sorts in the northron's mother tongue.  Lótë smiled faintly, dipping her crown in a small gesture of submission, of companionship. "I'd love to," she agreed honestly as she rose to her dyed paws, caramel plume swishing lightly at her hocks as she padded alongside the Alpha. 

sorry for the wait on their threads! (covids really knocked me on my ass these past two weeks) we could wrap up here if you like though?