Ouroboros Spine uvlakuun ⋳

backdated for when she arrived! <3

moonwoman held strange nerves as she walked with @Agana back toward the ulax. "my son arrluk is soon to marry a young woman who has the name of ajei. here she was born to shikoba, who was our star hunter for a long while."

as she spoke, kukutux set out wide strips of birchbark and began to heap them with dried fish from the previous summer, lake-caught filets of trout, the eternal fat gathered from deerkills.

"but i have said many words. now it is your turn, agana," she murmured, glancing toward the minkwoman as she stilled her work.

<3!!

The journey to the moonwoman’s ulaq took an eternity. She could feel the tension in the air, but decided to not comment about it. It was too much; she couldn’t bear it. „He would soon give you grandchildren,” a smile rolled onto her face, cheerful on the outside, yet sorrowful on the inside. Agana sat close to Kukutux, but still keeping some distance, as she did not deem herself worthy of the warm welcome she received, or standing any close to the duck.

The smile faded quickly as she was now her turn to speak. You never say too many words, she thought. If needed, she could listen to the pearl for an eternity and never grow tired of her soothing voice. Tufted ears folded backwards, golden gaze watching the woman work. So much to tell!

„I… don’t know where to begin.” With the start, of course. Where they left off. „After you left the court, I had a son, Astraeus.” She could still feel the little black ball nestled beside her breast, „We left the Vale, moved to the Sawtooth. Me and my son were unfortunately separated,” the poor child, growing up without a mother. It was not out of selfishness, no. It was more than that.

„I came back to look for him, for my packmates,” a pause, „but they were… gone. No trace of them on the sawtooth, the vale was already claimed by another, a mess.” So many things she could have done differently! Agana shifted her weight, uncomfortable with the tension. „I returned to my home, but they were also gone.” Everything and everyone she loved were gone in some way.

Except!

„I had no where else to go, so… I returned here.” Back to the present, seemingly her last resort. It wasn't her last resort; it was her last family alive. She had known the duck would be here, thriving, or at least her children, and she could seek refuge in their ranks. „Solharr found me and guided me to you, to Moonglow,” Golden gaze fixed on her jade stone eyes, but she soon broke the contact. Agana could not face her. Not while revealing her shame.

„I wish to… apologize. For running away, leaving so suddenly. I couldn’t face you after…” Another pause, but this one lasted. The unspoken tension between them said enough. Her cheeks burned now, a reddish hue covering almost her whole being.

why did agana not sit closer? kukutux understood that in many ways they had become strangers to one another, and did not know from where the pained thought had come.

offering a smile to agana's mention of more grandchildren, her soft pale ears cupped to listen. a son had been born, and her grin broadened, only to fade softly when her companion spoke of loss.

then did the duck move in the space between them, reaching out to take agana's paw between both her own if the mink allowed. a search which turned fruitless; a life rendered empty.

"there is nothing to forgive," kukutux murmured, searching into the anguish of the eyes she had seen churned to misery, a tall forest in a harsh gale. to busy her own scrambling mind, she plucked deerskins for them both, smoothing down the short hairs patterned with summerbrown.

"i am sorry i went away so quickly. andraste took me to moonspear as i had wanted. she did not tell to me that i was payment for her debts. they said she must go," kukutux murmured, glancing away from agana now to gaze upon the pelts which lay against her arm, their arms. "they took me to the mountain and were kind. but i did not ask to see courtfall again."

her eyes were soft, compelled once more by the wanting familiarity of agana's face. "i should have come back." so devoted had she been to finding a husband and the assimilation of moonspear; to the new ulaq and to the kind blackfox who had made her ostrega and set his name inside her as well.

to the star. moonglow.

but she should not have forgotten. "aiolos is here. he is sun man of all the moon villages. father. courtfall gave to us all a first life."

Her lips parted slightly as she allowed the moonwoman’s touch, a ghost of warmth she had not realized she longed for until now. How much she had missed this; she would never truly know. Agana’s gaze drifted toward the deerskin now resting in her arms, a memory woven into its fibers, recalling the ones Kukutux had gifted her when she had set out for Moonspear.

And yet, the story she thought she knew unraveled before her. It was not solely Andraste’s ambition that had led her there—at least, not entirely. A part of her had chosen it as well. Hadn’t she always known that? Then why did this sorrow settle so heavily in her chest? Why did it sting to hear it aloud, when she had always been aware that Kukutux had sought a husband?

But the fragile mirage shattered before her very eyes. She had never asked to see Courtfall again. Not once had she truly thought of her—of all the tenderness they had once shared. „I understand,” was all she managed to breathe. Her heart ached, even as she knew she had no right to feel this way. No. This pain was hers to bear, just as the blame was. She could have gone to her in Moonspear, could have raised her son by her side. And she did not.

Her golden eyes lifted, meeting the pale glow of the moonwoman’s face. A sorrowed smile ghosted across her lips as she took the deerskin from Kukutux’s arms, laying it gently across her back. A gift she would cherish for however many years remained to her. Even if Kukutux’s heart belonged to another, she would guard her own; keep it safe, in case she ever had need of it. If she ever did.

„Aiolos is a good man,” she said at last, voice steady despite the weight in her chest. „A good husband for you. I am glad you have built your life.” Better than I ever could. A pause. The air between them thickened, the silence pressing. She searched for something—anything—to shift the moment’s weight, to smooth the lingering ache between them.

„Moon villages?” she asked, grasping at the first thought that surfaced. „Are there more?” A question. A lifeline. Something to tether them to the present and dispel the ghosts of the past.

a silence hung.

unsaid words pressed against quiet mouths.

"there have been many. moontide. moonsong. moonspear, and still it stands. moonspear was taken again when my oldest daughter, sialuk, decided to return."

was there nothing to do with her paws now? her aching, betraying hands. kukutux looked closely at agana, wondering if she perceived notes of pain in that acceptance, but she did not press.

"but now, slowly, they have come down."

her turn for tremulous anguish, her mouth twitching to avoid tears. "the time of nuiruk, i feel, is changing."

and too, too must kukutux, if she was to see another era of moonwolves through to life.

"agana," and her voice was almost a plead, "tell me what is in your thoughts."

There was a wistful sorrow woven into the duck’s tone, a quiet mourning for the moonwolves and all they once were; now reduced to ash. Agana felt the weight of it settle deep in her chest, the sting of unshed tears pressing at the corners of her eyes. She wished she could close the distance between them, to hold her, to reclaim the time they had lost. But the years stood like an unyielding river between them, impossible to cross.

"I'm sorry," she murmured at last, her voice scarcely more than a breath. Her tail curled tightly around her, a futile attempt to ground herself. There was more she wanted to say, more she wanted to do; but she could not.

And when the moonwoman finally inquired about her thoughts, it shattered something within her. Agana lowered her gaze, drawing in a steadying breath. Then, she turned her head away, unwilling; unable to meet her eyes.

"Nothing," she whispered, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. Her nose twitched, her resolve wavered. "I just missed you." A single tear slipped down, searing against her flushed cheek. At last, she turned back to Kukutux, forcing a small, fragile smile.

I missed us.

"i have missed you also."

a vast chasm yawned between them, unable to be bridged by contemplative glances nor words that bounded around the border of what should be said.

she thought of sakhmet and the love they had shared, the daughter born to their hearth.

so many lifetimes had passed since she had been a shy girl in courtfall, and yet it felt as if she remembered those moments all the more keenly.

what did agana hold back from her?

but she did not need to ask why.

they had lived together; they had shared the beginnings of another hearth and another kiss. kukutux had allowed tradition to tear her aside, and agana surely — 

"we both suffered after that night," she heard herself say aloud, and she did not know why!

<3!

Those words cut deep. They had missed each other; but was it the same? Agana couldn’t be sure. That familiar ache returned, the same sharp pain that had seized her the night they kissed. Shame curled in her chest, her gaze falling to the ground, unable to meet the duck’s jade stone gaze.

They had both suffered since that night. But why? She had been the one to take that step, to reach out first. And yet, here they were, caught in the weight of it all. Her voice barely above a whisper, she breathed a teary „Yes,” her lower jaw trembling.
And then it struck her; just like before.

She would be the one to take that step again.

Agana moved forward, closing the distance between them in a tentative embrace, uncertain if she would be welcomed. But she needed this. Long ago, they had shared a den, shared fleeting moments etched into her memory like carvings in stone. Her paw found the moonwoman’s, and the touch sent a shiver down her spine. She did not speak; there was no need. Kukutux would understand. Her body said what her lips could not.

<333

kukutux remembered.

she remembered; she recalled in vivid color, and a girlish flushing crept her face.

she remembered sakhmet, where the seeds of sapphic love had sprung into a garden between them.

but sakhmet had gone, her heart forever broken by kigipigak.

aiolos — sun man filled her mind even as palm opened beneath agana's, even as her eyelids fluttered and her pulse took the gallop of an elk in summerfields.

she understood. her heart, her mind, her soul, all faithful — cloven in two wants.

dewdrop salt on lashes, their breath mingling for a moment of heated tension.

The pearl welcomed her, unfolding like a memory long buried. Agana sank into the embrace, golden eyes drinking her in: the curve of her hip, the jagged scar that cut across her shoulder, the faint ones dotting her moonlit face. She needed to remember, to carve each detail into the marrow of her bones.
She lingered longer than she should, but how could she not? Even if the duck no longer belonged to her, Agana would fight. Even now, when another claimed her heart, she would not yield. She was no fool; she knew love when she saw it. The daughters she bore were not from duty but devotion. The signs were there, written in the traces of red fur, in the pelts meant for more than one that draped the ulaq. And yet, she let herself dream, let herself wonder; what if? What if she stole her away from all of this, from expectation and obligation? What if they ran, just as she had once imagined they would, two girls lost in summer’s embrace?
Her palm remained open, her heart laid bare. She would not be blind this time. She would not be silent. Her muzzle lifted, breath warm as she whispered words long overdue; words she had once spoken in the hush of night. „Ești importantă pentru mine,” The same tongue, the same tension.
Agana would win her back. She had to. She tightened her grip as if to keep the moment from slipping through her fingers. But this was not an ending. It would never be an ending again.

and they ran off into the sunset ;;

and so;;

tears burning to overflow; kukutux inhaled. "and you are to me."

aiolos — he had loved sakhmet. might he come to understand all the unsaid things that agana and she had never spoken to one another?

moonwoman had become a heart with many loves —

the stars must not pass again without agana knowing.

they gazed upon one another, and it felt as though her heart had found its mortal end, ready again to rebirth what had been lost.

softly, their foreheads together. and then kukutux straightened with a necessary grandness, parting them with a weighted reluctance.

to the sky she looked now, willing herself to be still.

exit Agana! for now hehehe

Agana did not dare push further; an embrace would suffice for now. Yet, when the duck finally spoke, every lingering doubt crumbled like dust in the wind. The feeling was mutual, at least in some measure. A rare, genuine smile graced her lips, just as a single drop of water landed upon her cheek, cool and grounding. Clarity settled in her mind; if she wanted this, truly wanted it, she had to prove it. No more hesitation. She would stay; for as long as fate allowed, for as long as her soul belonged to this earth, she would remain by her side.
With quiet resolve, Agana placed a soft kiss upon her cheek before gently pulling away. „I will show you,” she vowed, her voice steady. „Just wait.”
And then, she turned toward the open plains, but not without a final glance, a promise lingering in her gaze. „I will be back.” The words carried more than mere departure; they carried certainty, the quiet storm of a decision made.

<333

i will show you.

kukutux wished that she did not, wished to beg her not. there was nothing to be won.

and yet no sound moved her mouth. she would go to aiolos; yes. for the bond they shared. would he understand?

would agana?

a third name now, rising; sakhmet. sakhmet. 

her breath, an exhale. her hours next, a vigil.

and her cheek burned where agana had kissed in a brief farewell.