Ouroboros Spine She comes from silver spoon,

Looking for other members of MG. All welcome.

 
The morning air was sharp, crisp enough to sting her lungs when she drew it deep. Frost clung to the edges of the ulax, sparkling faintly as the sun crept higher, and smoke from the hearth drifted thin above the clustered shelters.
Ippiksaut worked just beyond the threshold of her own, steady and practiced in the old rhythm of women’s hands. A caribou hide was stretched across a frame of lashed wood, its edges pulled taut with rawhide thongs. She leaned close, scraping carefully at the membrane with a shard of stone, the sound a low rasp that kept pace with her breath.
Nearby, other pelts lay weighted with stones, soaking to loosen what remained. She would chew the thinner pieces clean, stretch them again, dry them until they were supple and soft as river grass. Skins meant warmth, trade, and the bride-price of daughters yet to come.
The village moved faintly in her periphery, but Ippiksaut’s focus was here— tending the hides, keeping alive the work her mother had taught her in the shadow of the sea.

Ajei didnt know this one well. And she had not introduced herself yet. But today she did. A hide of her own that she had did work for. She carried it lightly on herback. A gift for the new she wolf.

She hathered all her courage to approach. Green haze on her.

Hello. I'm Ajei. I don't mean to interrupt your work. I merely wanted to welcome you, with a gift.

Ippiksaut’s teeth stilled upon the strip of sinew she had been drawing tight, pale eyes lifting from the stretched hide that hung in its frame. The ulax hummed faintly nearby, sealing in the oils of another pelt already drying.
Her head tilted, assessing the girl who came forward with something slung across her back. Broad shoulders eased, and Ippiksaut shifted to stand— the stiff crackle of dried salt and smoke clinging to her fur.
Sǫ'agnak, she acknowledged softly, a flick of her ear as if to confirm the name Arrluk had spoken. Her voice was low, roughened by age and sea-wind, but not unkind.
The hide drew her eye, and for a heartbeat she only studied it before stepping nearer. You worked this? she asked, tone measured but touched with respect. Her paw brushed it once, testing the grain, the give.
Then her gaze rose to Ajei’s face, a faint, rare smile tugging the edges of her mouth. It is a strong gift. You honor me. Sit— let me see you.