Ouroboros Spine foxfire

Nuak woke with a shudder after rolling off the edge of the fur bed he had claimed for himself. He landed awkwardly on his side after dropping from a slight rise in the dirt. At first he kicked the air and after gathering himself remembered where he was; not Ursus, but the mountain.

He looked for signs of the pale woman immediately, concern knitting his brow. All he could see was twilight's indigo sheen against the sky. A brisk wind whipped along the edge of the spine and drew across his shoulders, surprising the boy with its shadow-like chill.

With a piggish grunt he got to his feet and shook debris from his coat, then gingerly sought the pelt again, where he dropped himself in the center. There was no telling how long he had been asleep; days by the look of things, and now night was falling fast.

A gurgle in his stomach told him to go find a solitary spot to relieve himself - the amount of fatty tissue he had recently ingested wasn't something his system was used to - but the boy was otherwise content on the red fur rug, unwilling to budge from it again.

kukutux had gone to and fro, but eventually she too had slept. and she had dreamed of the blackfox speaking in her dreams.

but the duck had also been given visions of the glacier. she must visit, she decided, and take an offering in case the spirit of the grey brother who had died in anger still remained

against the darkened heavens was moonwoman silhouetted. she had been hunting for the scent of boars again; but she had come back, and now her jadeite eyes had found the boy. nuak. the kinship tie not yet made.

she passed his muzzy expression a smile. he had not disappeared as before. maybe he meant to stay in moonglow. "did you dream?" she asked, setting herself down a polite space away as the cool wind licked at her haunches.

Snaking across the pelt on his belly, Nuak felt his chin grind against the dirt and pulled himself in to a contortion, hugging the pelt between his legs to stop from losing it. The bolt of red fur was not as large as his body. He clung to it as if it granted safety, amused by the odd scent of it and the feeling of the coarse texture sprouting across it. When he stopped it might have been comical; the skin was piled at his chest which gave Nuak the appearance of a red beard.

When the woman surfaced again, Nuak was too preoccupied. It wasn't until she spoke that he loosened his grip on the fur, even pushing at the ground hastily, to shove it away from himself. I wasn't enjoying myself, no matter how it looked, the behavior said.

A dull snort was the only answer he gave, at first. Acting petulant; sniffing the air as if it held more interest than the woman, except, the twitch of his ears towards her showed his true focus. He could smell rain on the way - or maybe that's what thinned air smelled like. He stole a few glances at Kukutux and muttered, Sometimes. Not this time. he thought it was an odd question.

nuak has been playing, but now drew himself in strong angles away from the pelt. moonspear had been filled with rain, and if it was soon to come, the duck would welcome it as anything else.

"in this village, each dream has its meaning. they hold messages. sometimes from beyond the dancing lights." from where had he come? the duck knew now not to be so direct, for it might bring him more wariness.

visions. her own nights were at once both muted and dazzled with color. wordless, or with the heaviness of things she could not hear. the image of the ruined mountain, whole again. 

"do you know the name of boar?" she asked softly, slowly tendriling toward discovery of what in nuak would bring more words.

This woman was strange. There were layers of strange, he had come to understand. Astara's strange (silence or teeth and no in between) was different from Averna's strange (she who speaks with spirits) and now, Kukutux. Her kindness could not be trusted but her talk of dreams was familiar, as was the creature of her question. Her strange was something he studied now.

What were the dancing lights? Spirits maybe. Ghosts of the mountains might be different from the lowlands. Boars were food; Nuak wondered if they held the same sort of bizarre fascination for Kukutux as bears did for Merrick.

Do you speak with them? He needed to know this. How far afield had he wandered if he now found himself in the company of a boar-queen instead of his bear-king?

"i hunt them." kukutux motioned to her kill-scar. while she had taken up the place of moonwoman, she had not forgotten the fierce beauty of pursuing prey alongside astaroth. a silent prayer for him; she hoped that the man had found joy for being so kind.

"i am going up to find their mark," kukutux went on, lifting her chin toward the spine-slopes. it did not seem as if nuak would enjoy solitude in a place he did not know. "no blood today. only to look." her sideways words a subtle invitation for the young hunter to join her, and perhaps slowly she might learn his origins.

"do you have words with the running things?" she inquired, wondering if he was a beginning shaman, and that was why he had become so wild. such men went into the forest and were alone to speak with spirits.

They were food for her too, then. She held a scar upon herself that he had noticed upon their first meeting and it was now, brandished proudly where she directed his eye, that he could see it properly. Nuak wondered if he held any visible scars to tell his story; he had forgotten the tattering of his ears, and did not know if Aventus and Avicus had left anything visible during their various assaults.

Do you have words with the running things? The woman went on to ask, moseying towards a path that led upward of the claim. Nuak held back at first; he gave his bed-pelt a cursory glance as he debated internally whether following her would be worthwhile. He elected to stash the skin between some trees, haphazardly rolled so that the fur was hidden from sight.

He drew carefully along the path after her, giving ample distance. No. the boy finally answered, mumbling almost to himself afterward: —just the bears. As if speaking of them might summon one such beast, or maybe Merrick, lurking in the dark. The man had always fascinated and terrified Nuak, with his ability to slither out of any shadow.

kukutux waited with a deferential politeness as the boy put aside the skin, feeling a motherly sort of pride as he stepped upon the same trail. 

the bears.

"we have many stories of bears here. and i have more, in my head." another grin, for kukutux truly was exhilarated still at the experience of free-roam after two moons of recovering. "sometimes they have words. sometimes they have no words." she glanced sidelong at him, curious as the path grew rocky and jagged, the hilliness increasing.

a wild young hunter who spoke with bears. "if a bear shares a talk with a hunter, we say that nanook has seen that the hunt will be successful. he is the god of bears. he wears a white parka, and he knows if a taboo in hunting has been broken."

Story time with the boar-queen. She latched upon the bears when they were mentioned; the sound of her voice led him along and distracted Nuak from the more tedious angles of the climb. As the incline increased the boy slowed, huffing breaths, only half-listening until he had caught up.

As he turned to stare down the way he had come, feeling somewhat exhilarated by the experience of conquering that miniscule hill, his ears twisted to follow Kukutux' voice.

White bear. As fickle a beast as the black and the brown which he knew. They have names? He should have known that; Avicus had probably told him the name of the resident bear within Ursus, but now that he had to think about it, Nuak could not recall.

With a glance to Kukutux, Nuak returned to the path.

they continued.

"only nanook has a name. if a hunter meets any bear in his journey, he says 'thank you for allowing me to pass, grandfather.' for nanook is very old, and a piece of his spirit is in every bear. it is respectful." a brief curve to her lips. kukutux enjoyed the telling of stories, but would not fill him with a thousand words in their recount.

she dropped low, suddenly, studying the shambling gait of a tall shadow upon the rise just beyond. the animal turned, and she saw the light glint upon its wicked tusk. her skin remembered how that edge could tear, and she motioned nuak away, in an arc that would lead them past the boar.

when they had regrouped, kukutux found another path. she wanted to see how many the boars numbered without provoking them, but kept a pale aud turned in the boy's direction.

What she said tracked with what he knew already.

Nuak couldn't remember learning the name of the bear in Ursus, did not know if Averna's talk of spirits and powers had anything to do with the creatures, but when Kukutux mentions that only the pale one has a name, that it is the grandfather of them, he accepts it. It gives him a feeling of giddiness to think he had some knowledge that even the great bear-king lacked.

On they went, stopping only when Kukutux began to move towards Nuak with a twist. He did not see what she saw; her change in trajectory and quickening steps made him nervous and he swayed out of her path. The fur growing between his shoulders began to spike.

The woman moved on with her interest focused on something among the trees. Seeing as she wasn't targeting him after all, Nuak picked up his own pace and followed her, keeping some distance between them.

the change in the young hunter sparkled between them for a fraught moment, but the duck's small head was up, gaze trained upon the treeline. three shapes now, the wolves downwind. instinctive hunger frayed in her stomach, but their village had grown. perhaps one would not be enough. and she had told the boy they would not hunt today.

"they are fierce together. strange to see their teeth," she whispered toward him, before at last, reluctantly, the moondrop pulled away from their game-trail and set a path for she and nuak opposite the boars, slowly across the teeth of the spine. "there is a woman here who has the name of lótë. she knows the way of the herds in the valley and upon the stones around moonglow. she has followed them, as we followed the boars."

They? He looks, finally, and sees the topline of odd fat creatures moving about, distantly. They cross through shadows with their faces down in the dirt (much like himself when Kukutux had come upon him, he realizes). There are shafts of light catching on their quilled shoulders.

Kukutux whispers to him and then draws away, leaving Nuak to stand there gawking at the sounder. His ear turns to follow the sounds of Kukutux' steps until he finally has his fill of the creatures, then journeys on to flank her. He is mindful of the distance between them but is distracted by the dark shapes in the underhedge.

She mentions another hunter, another woman, and Nuak wonders why. Hunting has never been a fascination of his. In fact, this could be one of the only moments Nuak has shared with another wolf regarding the hunt — easier for him to steal bits and pieces from caches when others weren't looking.

He doesn't say anything, only grunts softly, and continues plotting a course along the spine path. His eyes are drawn towards the low-slung bodies as the boars adapt to the watching wolves, either oblivious of the predators or generally disinterested.

he was fixed upon them. kukutux did not speak again, only stood where she had stopped, watching the group of them. fierce beasts, some with a piggish insistence upon destruction. but like all living things, respect must be part of each interaction.

nuak found some solace in the boars. 

quietly, from the corner of her eye, kukutux studied him: his heavy lines and greystone hues, the careful dart of his observant gaze. a thrum of answering, of knowing, upon the drum of her heart. boys did not simply become lost in the forest. who had put him there? and where he had he been brought into the world?

The largest of the boar, a female, was being harassed by another of the group. She was busy digging in the soil but even Nuak could tell that her patience wore thin; when she turned to squeal at her assailant she lifted her snout and snapped at their hide. The unhappy noises of the fellow boar heralded and end to the moment.

Nuak was amused by the show. It took him a moment or two to notice that Kukutux' steps had stopped as well. When he glanced towards her he caught her eye and felt heat rising to his cheeks — used to drawing the ire of others, not silent observation.

As he turns his attention back to the boars he bristles, and says, You should have left me where you found me. He was no hunter. He could only take, take, take, and had no skills with which to repay the gifts she had given him.

He bows his head away from the boars, towards patches of tall grass which have begun to develop seed pods. Nothing there holds his attention for long but it is clear Nuak is beginning to adapt to the area.

their gazes touched. she wanted to meet him with a reassuring smile, but instead felt her expression fade into a solemn look as nuak snorted toward her, turning his tall body away to investigate the grasses as if he were a caribou yearling. smoothpale brows drawing together, and then the woman looked back upon the boars.

once more a squeal, ringing out to pierce.

the duck saw that the boy's steps were more sure. 

nuak knew he did not have to stay, and yet he did. 

she thought of raimo, suddenly; an ache whistling birdbone beneath her breast, sharp its stab.

"do you miss the place where we made our first meeting?" had it been a home for him, or only a land to cross on unsure young paws.

All that he found was grass. Some dry, some fresh and trying to spread. There were a few clusters of tiny white dots freckling the hillside and then further down, yellow bundles ready to open up; in a day or two the hill would be covered in blooming weeds.

The boy's ears slanted when he heard her question. He did not answer until he'd moseyed some distance, taking the time to think.

That was nowhere. He answers. Every place was the same regardless of elevation, and Nuak knew he did not fit anywhere in a physical sense. He barely deserved to take up the space that he did.

He pauses and places his raised paw down. A thought has occurred to him, one he mulls over. When he voices his next question he does not look her way, and there is a hardness to his voice, a resistance.

Why give me so much, when I am nobody? What is it you want?

kukutux had lowered herself into a sit by now, pale plume wrapped around her small front paws. 

his words were filled with things she did not understand. a boy who had been given nothing. a trader already.

a trader.

the trader.

she swallowed, and baubles of dew suddenly clung to her lashes. "the mountain, there. it fell." to moonspear. "i lost a son. i lost my husband. i lost my sister. before that, i lost my brother."

a sigh. 

"because in all the losing, and in all the knowing that no one will take their place, i have open arms. i made this village to be a home. a place for those who are lost and have lost to rest. finally." she did not sob, nor inhale unsteadily; kukutux was still, save for the slow stream upon her cheek. "i saw your face. i saw only a boy who was lost. and so i brought you here. there is no trade i want. stay or do not, nuak."

a smile despite herself. "because i am anaa. mother. it is the only reason."

Nuak had never heard of such a thing as a mountain falling. He had no concept of mountains until this place. The thought of one coming apart and being gone — he could not fathom it, and so took that grain of her story and let it fall away.

Her losses were similar to his own. It was unfortunate then, that all of his losses occurred before he could truly comprehend them. He could not empathize. As far as Nuak was concerned he had nobody but himself to worry over; her sadness was, therefore, far removed from him.

You are not my mother. The boy counters. My mother — What could he say? A dark look crossed his face, transmuted it from the look of wonder he'd held for the boars and the curious concentration on his face when he'd been thinking; now he looked raw, empty. I have no-one.

Mother, father, brother — gone. It didn't hurt him to know this, although thoughts of Astyanax brought a deep jealousy to his heart. What would it matter to this woman, though, this stranger? She had no reason to care for him.

Nuak fell to silence then. He was comfortable there unlike the moon woman, and while she quietly wept he resumed his hunt through the grass.

no one.

she could not become his mother. he was a hunter upon the edge of manhood. it would not do well to coddle him, to pull him back into the ways of being a boy. lifting fore-ankle to wipe aside the tears that belaboured her. she was finished now, focused upon nuak.

"once upon a time, there was a grey man."

do not, wept her soul, but she went on.

"the grey hunter was loved by a white bird. by a night bear. by a black fox. and still he was not happy."

"he said to the white bird, 'leave me alone. i have left my children in a valley.' and then he went out to fight."

strange, to tell the story of the trader without saying his name; it was upon her tonguetip now as if it had never left.

"but he did not come back from his fighting. the white bird and the night bear buried him in the ice."

it was not like the stories she had told before.

Thinking the topic of their similar losses was at an end, Nuak did not see a connection between the sorrow in the woman and the tale she began to share. There was weight to her voice.

Nuak did not connect the figments from the tale to beings in his own life until she was finished. The largest creature he had ever seen had been a true bear but next to that, Avicus; the closest thing to a white bird on the other hand, Averna, or perhaps the moon woman.

He could, at least, identify that it was a story couched in reality to some degree. That it was about her own losses. Something Nuak had said must have drawn her to this story, implored for her to share; or maybe she was aching and needing to vent her sorrow somehow, but why to him?

Perhaps being no one made him a good candidate. A void to fill up and then abandon.

I have left my children in a valley, she had said of the gray man.

It meant nothing; although it brought to mind home, and up went the defensive walls around his heart. It wasn't his home any longer. He would not be missed by anyone there, he thought.

Was he your husband? Why else would she fixate on him, make him the center of her story?

Eager to put thoughts of Bearclaw behind him, Nuak questioned the relevance of this telling. He glanced towards her through the reeds, his face difficult to see, impossible to read either way.

why did she say these things? why did she allow herself to fall so crazily into the chasm that had never healed within herself.

husband. 

it cooled her heart to ice, for nuak, unknowing, pierced into the bedrock of the thing she had always kept secret between herself and the grey trader. "he was the brother of her husband," she deflected, looking down at the earth between her paws. if the young moon-hunter had lived, would she struggle so in the telling of him? 

kukutux could not shake the familiarity that clung to the line of her jaw as she glanced toward his impassive youthful face. was she certain, then, that she had not brought the boy to moonglow so that he might fill the shattered place where her son had once been held?

nuak's hard body, shifted away from her. kukutux, helpless.

"my husband's brother."

a breath.

"he had the — look of you, nuak."

Not her husband, just someone close. It would have been intriguing if Nuak had the capacity to care; it wasn't until Kukutux took a breath and divulged a strange detail that Nuak's face contorted, frowning. Confusion reigned a moment; he sank back among the reeds, unable to parse what he had heard.

It didn't make sense. Yes, he had been born in a valley, and yes his father had been some kind of warrior, from what Nuak had been taught. It was not enough of a connection for him to agree with what Kukutux had concluded.

My father left. He spat, shaking his head vehemently. As he prowled from the cover of the grass he glared after the pale woman. The boars were forgotten; they had been snuffling through the dirt and put some distance between themselves and the wolves.

Nuak wished he could do the same. Who was this woman? How could he justify what she said with what he knew? But many fathers leave, or die, and that doesn't make them all mine. No; he would refuse to believe anything else this woman told him.

Clearly this was the trick; make Nuak beholden through kindness and then try to manipulate his young mind, trick him, make him in to something he was not. The scowl on his face only further proved Kukutux' claim — the youthful, resting face of Revui returned to life.

Don't think you can replace your dead with me, witch.

witch.

it was more than he had said to her, and more heavy than his previous words. pale ears cupped backward, but not from hurt for herself. she ached for him, for whatever had corrupted him in such a way. "the dead cannot be replaced. i would not give them the insult. or you," she added more softly, for she had struck some chord within him, and it removed them again to the wall that had first been there.

the boy's face changing, and yes; she saw it true as the light of the sun, and dropped her eyes to still a reaction. who else could nuak be save for her true clan, the hidden son of an angry trader, and later the forgotten boy who had wandered back as if drawn by spirits. a boy left behind. for that was what the grey brother had done, in all the time that kukutux had known him. 

he had left her, in the end.

"i have insulted you." gentle. an observation. she rose, unfurling, suddenly weary with the fear that he would leave, the boy she had only just found. "i will not speak it again." a flick upward of her gaze. "if you are hungry, i will set aside a portion for you at the ulaq."

she did not think he would stop her, and so the duck turned to pad into the forest, and when she was alone the tears came again, for the trader, for her son. 

for his.

His will manifested in the way she turned and fled; it was a moment of power for him, watching her wilt, listening to her voice but not hearing her and the truth she carried.

The boy paced, frustrated and confused, while Kukutux left him there upon the hillside. All he could hear was the wind in the trees punctuated with the occasional squeal of a distant hog.

In time he would find his way back to where his fur was stashed. Gathering it up, Nuak would find a solitary place to sprawl and feel his new feelings. They burned inside of him alongside many questions, incendiary.