Nova Peak [nd] Impǐdze

There was dancing, an abundance of meat and merriment and laughing. Yet the mother can think only of those little three lives waiting for her upon the mount. Not long after they’d been tucked in does Ayovi slip away from the festivities, returning to the den within the stoneface. Outside the snow falls in cool sheets but beneath the mountain’s cradle the air is warm and stirring in tiny breaths.
The huntress noses her way beneath the bearhide and gathers her children against her breast. The scar crusts along her belly, sutured flesh still tender to the touch, but she cannot keep herself away.
They rest so peacefully. Skorpa’s children could sleep through a snowstorm, and though she wants desperately to nurse her pups, Ayovi will not awaken them. Instead the mother seeks to ornament their dreams with a serene hum.

atoztli does not know this song, but as she places her small offering of field-caught hare at the mother's den, she stops to listen.

power in those words. she rises to gather her things and leave when she realizes her shadow hasn't escaped the mother's notice.

apologies, my lord. a rueful smile, for she hasn't the feminine word for such things. a gift for allowing us in your home. she knows this mother must be very tired. bowing her head twice, she backs slowly away to leave.