Ouroboros Spine healing

she came looking for @Akmaaksi — fire girl who burned so slow. one day it might eat the world whole but for now she seemed like cautious embers. callyope thought she might tend the flames of childhood.

with her she brought her ramskin, the signs of frequent use had pressed down upon some of the furs. dirt had worked its way in.

perhaps she had held off on the washing of it for sentimental things.

but this was a task that would be good to have done with another. the sentiments held by the skin had her uncertain if she could cleanse it fully by herself. if she even could —

even if his scent had gone from it long ago.

grandmother sang. her cousins bonded over their sick mother. tautukpik kept to the far trails. new uncles returned to the place of their birth.

aunt callyope arrived now. she held a skin smeared with dust and travel. akmaaksi knew it would be carried to the lake where others laughed even now. their voices would hold sunshine, and their tones would arrange into the great songs for which moonglow was known.

firegirl sank down into the thorn-thicket filled with twittering finches. at first they had all flown; the second time, one brave bird had pecked her paw quite harshly. 

but on the third, the birds neither stirred nor fled nor attacked, and by the fourth they took her gifts of scraped deer-fat and tissue.

the sharp vines guarded akmaaksi from many things — from the golden ghosting of her mother's remembered laughter, which lurked around the ulax and beside the lake. from her grandmother's talk of a future which only filled firegirl with dread. from tautukpik's eternal boast that he would go, he would find nutuyikruk. that they might be together again.

today the briars guarded firegirl from forest-kith and the knowing eyes that had looked through to her soul's pain.

she thought she might go to her mother. ask after the girl or see if even anaa might mind the task.

but she thought of the ember girl. the one who had panted her anxieties and laid low upon the glen’s earth. the one who callyope had sung for until they had slept.

the girl had healed her.

she wanted to see the face of the future and not be so scared. as much as she wished to be wed and bring forth her own life, she knew the talks overwhelmed her too. that she felt fretting fuzzies and like disappointment might strike at any moment.

no, she did not want to find her own mother for this. she did not want to be around the singing bodies and hear the songs of bride prices.

she had plenty of time for that on other days.

her volume was hushed and soft so it would not draw attention from those who worked. a humming sound of curiosity as she swept through paths less walked. looking for the girl, hoping to find her somewhere here. away from the loud joy, away from the looming future that she both yearned and loathed.

the finches spoke.

she is looking for you.

akmaaksi shook her head.

but she will not find me.

if the finches spoke, she did not know, for in truth she created their voices.

firegirl saw the quietude of her aunt and lifted her ears above the thorns, wondering if callyope would see her with that same care as before.

she made no sound and held still as the sleeping wings within the thicket.

she could not be sure that she was so near, so close.

did a falcon’s gaze hide among the delicate birds’ own? maybe a glimpse of ears, but callyope did not wish to force the girl out of hiding.

maybe this was more important skill building than the washing of a fur.

the ramskin was laid out upon the ground near thickets.

i have the want for hushed company. i have a face in mind for this. her voice did not raise above a whisper. if the girl was here, hidden off the path and away from bright eyes, callyope knew she would hear it.

the decision would be hers.

but my want must be her want.

a paw, delicately smoothing down already flattered hairs.

she speaks of you.

firegirl's ears quivered. she sank down again, but this time watched her aunt through the thicket, saw the gentle hand smoothing, heard the soft voice.

she speaks of you!

akmaaksi found herself crawling shyly from her hiding-place, a spiderling who twitched the edge of the ramskin and saw its dirt.

she glanced to callyope in curious silence, not meeting eyes but allowing her own to creep along that familiar cheekbone.

i think i have grown too used to a hush forest,

why is she confessing to her young niece?

she does not know. does she?

callyope did not press her gaze upon the soft girl. instead it remained on the ramskin as if she spoke only to spirits. maybe in a way she did.

you are like a piece of it, but here in my first home. yet these words were not for a spirit. they were for the ember girl.