Ouroboros Spine baby you're a haunted house

He could have gone north to the Neverwinter, but the sight of the forest on the horizon was enough to turn his stomach. The place held the spirit of his dead wife and the man he presumed was her lover, who she had chosen over her own children. This was an unfavorable view to take—Kigipigak knew that, somewhere deep down—but he could not shake the sense of betrayal that festered at his core. No, he would not go there. She was gone; the lake was not haunted, it was not holy, it was just a lake, and he did not need to see it.

The urge to be near his kin did draw him towards the mountains, though. Moonglow waited there, as it always did. His son and daughter were again cared for by the Moonwoman. As Kigipigak climbed to the village outskirts he kept himself alert in case of intervention, as he did not carry any scents but the wilderness at this point, and he did not know how welcome he might be to the village.

It was late. Or, it felt late; the sun had set an hour or so after the midday mark, and it had only been doom and gloom since. Suitable for how he felt these days.

firegirl did not reject snowfather.

she did not welcome him.

akmaaksi had found his scent upon her return to the village; she had followed it at a pace which slowed and slowed.

for the first time in a long while, her heart began to pound; the girl crumpled to the ground and panted helplessly, one paw clenched into the body of her cardinal.

blood-red feathers marked where it had fallen, and it stood out in its own hue against the greyred of her coat as she came over the bend and found aapa there.

casting her eyes at him as she went past, akmaaksi offered scheming grandmother's tradition of politeness. 

but all firegirl had come to need was tautukpik.

the greenlight had faded when mother had left them.

the ancestors did not speak to him now, and he had forgotten if they ever really had.

they did not warn him of the coming cold-front that was his father, and it was only when akmaaksi stutter-stepped in this new way that tautukpik stopped to look; and he saw there, winter cleaved cleanly in the shape of a wolf.

akmaaksi sank. tautukpik hurried to her side, and stood tall, and watched; but he wanted to sink too. when sister moved on, brother lingered for only a breath more, and hurried to keep to her flank.

When he felt eyes upon him, he looked back—expecting Kukutux or Aiolos, or maybe even in that hopeful pointless way that grief demanded, Ariadne. He saw all of them at once in the face of his daughter; and he saw himself too, in his son. The momentary look between them—the shock he felt, and she displayed—rippled out. Akmaaksi did not linger. Tautukpik did, at least long enough to Kigipigak to take a step and begin to speak, but they were both gone up and along the path before his tongue could co-operate.

They looked like wild things. They had grown in to leaner bodies, broader bodies, Tartok bodies. There was recognition there, and maybe fear? He could not tell, it had been too fast. The thundering of his own heart filled his ears. The urge to go after them persisted, and yet Kigipigak felt as if he were made of ice.

cardinal was flung away beside the path. akmaaksi no longer wanted it; she no longer wanted to carry it to their home that suddenly did not feel it was theirs.

there was one glance backward for aapa.

inside her mind, the word was as empty as anaa. she had outgrown them as a snake split its own robes and left them behind in the sun.

only when firegirl felt they were alone did she begin a silent weeping, her head leant heavily against tautukpik.

they went away, together. away from the cold man. a part of tautukpik wanted to turn back; he condemned it, and told himself no—no! akmaaksi needed him now. she would always need him. he was the anchor, she was the flame. there was no space in their togetherness for more.

still, the temptation remained.

the cardinal. he could gather that. he could claim to be seeking that which was discarded; but only later, when the man wasn't waiting there for them.

wordlessly she wept! tautukpik became like fire, then. while she melted, he stood beside and sheltered her, and felt her body shake, and burned with anger that this winter-man might come and ruin everything!

i will make him leave, croaked the boy. he flashed his teeth in a scowl.

tautukpik promised, his teeth swordlike.

akmaaksi watched him; she felt his fury vibrating in her own heart, and thought of what grandmother had told her about kvarsheim.

about going there.

she did not want to leave moonglow, but what was here?

now the winterstorm was back, and their village felt smaller. less protected.

words formed; words;

words. but akmaaksi did not try to say them aloud.

only a paw lifted, pointing out. out. 

her eyes held his own. 

there was a boy in kvarsheim. enough of the girl was sunshine not to question what was intended of her, but the part of akmaaksi which was tartok saw only a freedom to seize.

but would tautukpik understand?

she moved, and he was quick to see it.

agitated by the arrival of the man, tautukpik was on high-alert; hypervigilant for the sake of his remaining family. for any order from sister. should he go and send this man away? he did not want to part from akmaaksi.

she looked to him, her paw raised. he saw her meaning; she was wordless, and had been for a long while, and tautukpik had learned to understand. nobody would ever understand her better, he thought.

you want to run? that wasn't the way he meant to insinuate it, but the words tumbled from him sharply. tautukpik expected the winter-man to be upon them swiftly, or at least to hear the thunder of his voice, something to make him worth running from. all it took was the look upon sister's face for tautukpik to swallow how he felt about all of this.

ok, we go. he presses his nose to her scruff, striding alongside.

she needed only him. he needed only her.

the silent pact between them had been written first when little fox went away.

again when they had lost nutuyikruk.

again when they had lost anaa.

and then they had lost aapa a second time. once when he and ariadne had broken their own feeling for one another.

a second time when he had just come back, a stranger to eyes that saw only what had been taken from them.

we go.

she ran.