Ouroboros Spine shadows on the snow

@Kukutux @Aiolos @Vairë -- hoping to join! he's skirting along the borders

he trudges through the snow, gait low, head pressed against his chest to bear the brunt of the biting wind. the storm howls, an unrelenting force that lashes against his broad frame, but he does not falter.

his black pelt is dusted with fine layers of snowfall, specks of white clinging stubbornly to his sleek coat. the mountain looms above him, its jagged peaks lost in a veil of swirling frost. he winds through its base, heedless of the land he trespasses on.

his focus remains fixed on the path ahead, the borders of this place a faint suggestion beneath the snowdrifts. there is no hesitation, no pause to consider the implications of his presence. the cold cuts deep.

Popping in to work on Ipiktok’s trades~

The news of Moontide’s withering rocked the young hunter. For his whole life, the sister villages of Sunshine ways stood strong together. Now, much like this harsh winter, their power had been challenge… and small cracks turned into to fractures.

He busied his mind with work. Ipiktok cleared a path for game, trap-setting so their trail would be easier to hunt, but soon the ferocious squall forced him away. On his road home, the scent of a stranger was detected – laced into the whipping winds.

A dark figure lurked along their borders.

“Ho!” Ipiktok bellowed in a defensive, guard-like, way. He high-stepped through the drifts, too young and unwise to detect what peril could come from a situation like this.

thanks for joinin!!

the stranger halts, his dark frame contrasting sharply against the snow-blurred backdrop. his head lifts slightly, yellow-grey eyes catching the movement of the young hunter as he approaches.

for a moment, he does not speak, only watches, his stance rigid like a man caught. the snow swirls around him, catching in his coat like fleeting embers extinguished by the cold.

you guard these lands? he shifts, back legs stepping to ease over the other side of the border he trails, leaving him disconnected. eyes burning upon the yearling who intercepts him. just minding my business.

At first, the stranger doesn’t answer… and this sent a pulse of adrenaline through the Gamma. His jaw clenched, worried this wolf was here with sinister intent. The situation dawns on him. Ipiktok was not afraid to defend his family’s village… but he had never fought in earnest before… and he could sense the practiced, hidden ferocity in the other’s gaze.

Yet they choose to retreat beyond Moonglow’s markers… and Ipiktok was relieved.

“Yes,” Ipiktok affirmed proudly as he stood tall. “My name is Ipiktok Nuiruk. This border marks village Moonglow.” He must speak loudly to be heard above the wind.

The stranger watched with intensity and Ipiktok felt the pressure to act as Aiolos or Arrluk would – brave, noble, and wise. “Why are you out in this storm? If you seek shelter, you need only ask.” After all, he had never seen moonwoman or sunman turn away those in need of help.

the name, the title of the village, means little to him, but the pride in the boy's voice is not lost. it speaks of loyalty, of roots firmly planted, and for a moment, a flicker of something akin to envy passes behind his dull, yellow-grey eyes.

the offer of shelter is a fragile bridge extended across the chasm of their difference. he tilts his head slightly, considering. the storm does not faze him; it has long since become a familiar companion—alas, that is what masa would tell himself. he cannot ignore the brittle chill that bites at his bones, something not even his thick fur could fight off.

shelter is not what i seek, he says finally, averting yellow eyes from the yearling. who had offered his name in kind. i pass through. nothing more. but his words, though simple, leave much unsaid.

black wolves had never ceased to remind kukutux of her blackfox. her young hunter. these images never left her heart, and as moonwoman aged, so more starkly they stood against the backdrop of warmer things.

this man was well-shaped and engaged in words with ipiktok. kukutux wore a soft expression as she arrived slowly along the path, more willing to remain silent as the men continued to speak.

only the serenity of her green eyes said she was who she meant.

The ebony man continued to act a mystery. He answered Ipiktok’s question in a roundabout way, which unsettled the candid youth. Strangers could keep their secrets… if they stayed far away from Moonglow, the hunter decided. Yet natural curiosity begged him to ask… “If not shelter, then what?”

The black of Moonwoman’s nose dotted the white snowdrifts in Ipiktok’s peripheral. He briefly glanced to he side, not willing to take his sights off the wanderer. He stood straighter as if to telegraph they were now in the presence of a very important person.

he hesitates, unsettled by the arrival of yet another wolf of the spine. even more, this woman carries with her a certain stride that causes his fur to bristle. uncomfortably.

suddenly, masa can't help but feel forced into a difficult situation. his fur bristles faintly, a subtle ripple beneath the snow-dusted black of his pelt, as though his body betrays what his silence seeks to conceal. he dare not admit he would appreciate sanctuary from the elements, so his head lowers against a white-streaked chest, eyes flickering hesitantly between the two.

he says nothing, only offers a grunt in response. he does not meet their gazes fully, does not offer the answers they might expect.

snow blew in harsh gusts. the man did not speak. kukutux looked through the whorls of white at her grandson, then aimed her voice toward the stranger's ear. "come into the village. we will share words at my ulaq, for grandfather white bear walks in storms such as these," she warned with a humorous gleam to greenstone gaze.

she turned, expecting that both men walked with her. "we will eat. then you will say why you have come. i will allow you to remain until the wind has gone down if you only make a path through."

didn't know if i was expected to go again <3

for a moment, masa didn’t move, the offer lingering as if caught in the swirling gusts.

finally, he shifted, his head inclining slightly, though his expression remained unreadable. he didn’t speak, but his steps fell into place behind her, a quiet acceptance of the invitation—or perhaps a temporary truce with the elements.

his eyes flicked to the younger wolf briefly, then back to the path ahead.

his voice is quiet. almost solemn. thank you.