Moonspear ^________________^

Pie despaired in the days following the wedding. She wasn’t cut out to be a leader, she decided, if she couldn’t even handle socializing in groups. She spiraled further as her dreams of her own wedding day were dashed. Tiuttuk beat herself up for entertaining these silly dreams in the first place. Besides, would anyone want to marry her, considering she was a woman with extra packaging? And what if—worst of all, by far—she couldn’t become an anaa one day…?

She curled up in a ball of misery and didn’t move. She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, though eventually Pie had to get up or she was going to soil herself. Dismally, she plodded toward the nearest snowdrift and lifted a leg. As the snow steamed and yellowed, moisture escaped by way of her eyes too, as she burst into tears.

Sialuk took in a deep breath of the crisp, cold air. Snow was a constant now, crunching beneath paws and falling from the sky on a regular basis. The days grew slightly longer, but many of the hours were still devoid of light. She longed for the warmth of sun on her back, wildflowers, and the happy pitter-patter of young children about, even if they might not be her own this year.

Instead, it was another sound which pulled Sialuk from her wishes of future seasons: Treepie's sob.

My little bird, what's wrong? the mother asked, worried that some pain might have come from Tiuttuk's recent relieving of herself. A quick sniff of the air didn't reveal anything noticeably wrong with her daughter's liquid waste, but perhaps her unique anatomy had caused her discomfort.

She managed to empty her bladder and take a single step away from the tree before she sank to the ground, bawling. Treepie didn’t hear her mother’s footsteps, though the sound of her worried voice caused the young woman to suck in a wet, startled breath.

Pie hiccuped out a single word—Everything—before breaking into a fresh sob.