Ouroboros Spine I was three days on a drunken sin

The trail led from the quarry to the mountainside as suspected, up through the black spine hills. At one point or another Raimo stopped caring about the path the girl had taken and focused on the terrain.

There were signs of life throughout the area. Missing bark on some older trees at eye-line or higher; some graze lines, naked berry bushes crusted with ice. It did not surprise him when the scent of Sialuk crossed his path, but Raimo did not pursue it.

The mountain interested him now — and the bounty hidden somewhere upon it. From the look of things the girl had been healthy, just a little bit rattled; and, Raimo figured anyway, if it was just the girl and her friend, he could hunt to his heart's content.

three, four sunrises. details were beginning to filter back to the duck. she had been preparing for ruenna's visit. hydra roamed the mountain. that was when she had looked up to see the light, and after that, a darkness not even her most complex thought could untangle.

kukutux awoke from her fitful nap. something stirred in her consciousness. maybe it was only the frantic darting thoughts of a snow goose who had lost her home, but the injured mother emerged from her ulaq to scan the terrain another of countless times, pale ears turning in wariness toward the second figure that blossomed against the long white.

Something scurried in the undergrowth. He had been hoping for something worthwhile, something large which he could sink his teeth in to. Fatten himself up over a carcass and enjoy many hot meals.

Instead there was something low-to-earth, scratching at the ice. The sound brought to mind a memory; the sight of a hare scrambling across an open field. The tremble of lupines. The taste of sun-baked soil in the air.

Raimo plunged across the snow without care of what, or who, might hear. He snapped at the shape as it vanished among the sedge, the black cowl across his shoulders blending in to the frenzy of the foliage.

The ptarmigan shrieked once, then all was still.

she watched as the figure became wolf and swept down upon something that gave a sharp cry and then was finished. a hunter. belly clenched in hunger for what he had killed; there was an answering pang that sent torment smarting through her ankle. kukutux lowered her haunches to the snow beside the ulaq, then lay down, wanting to watch even if she did not wish to be seen.

her sister's voice, telling her it was good to be kuktutux. tears stung her eyes. here upon the bare open studded with stone and tree until they gathered into a forest, much could be seen. the sun shone down upon the snow. and kukutux, with luck, would also be hidden until she was spotted against the piled drifts.

With a wrench of his jaws the neck had been snapped. Raimo thought to remove the head and discard it, however, he chose at the last moment to use the limp neck as a handle. The bird hung from his grip and splayed out its wings.

The shadows distorted his shape for a moment but as he moved beyond the bushes, to a gap of winterlight, Raimo tossed the bundle down where it sank against the snow again. He had half a mind to begin cleaning it now, plucking the feathers.

Instead he regarded the shape of it in apparent silence, but one ear twisted towards where Kukutux lurked and observed. Raimo did not know where she was in earnest but the scent of wolf had grown considerably since the felling of the bird — he had to suspect someone would have noticed him by now.

Are you hungry? Raimo calls out. He appears to be talking to the ptarmigan. His voice carrying across the snow to the surrounding trees.

kuktutux kept herself hidden. she wished to remain there, to deny the withering of her belly. to assuage the guilt she felt eating sialuk's kills with her own determination. to tell herself that she was not weak.

she thought of her raindrop. if this man hunted not only for himself, perhaps the burden could be more equally split. but what would he want in return?

at last she lifted her head; her fur, streaked with dirt and dried blood half-washed by frequent sleeps against the snow, was visible now. she keened a single note, hackles flickering to life with fear of what was to come now.

When she lifted her head, he would be nowhere to be seen. The ptarmigan abandoned where he had dropped it — his steps having carried him across the snow in the dark of the trees, to where another squall burst forth.

Raimo was fortunate that ptarmigan often ran together in pairs, especially so during this season. He would emerge from the dark again and this time approach from another angle, carrying with him a sad looking sack of feathers and meat.

This one he would keep for himself. As he settled upon the snow, first sitting and then sprawling chest-down against the white, he held the bird between outstretched arms and preened at it's feathers.

gone again, the stranger. again the squawk of birds. she sat to listen and to wait. he came back with a second of the pale birds, and lay down in the snow. perturbed, kukutux glanced toward he had made his first kill; she hesitated until surely the blood was cooling inside the flesh, and then limped from her hiding-place more fully, a slow gait that carried her toward the first carcass.

akiggik lay limp against the drifts. the duck stole a final glance toward the man before she lowered her muzzle, snatching desperate bites as she tried to keep herself afloat upon a hobble and her greenjade eyes trained upon the shadow.

The man busied himself with cleaning his kill. It was not going to be satisfying for long, but it was warm, and it was fresh. A nice change from a belly filled with snow. As Raimo worked his ears pivoted, listening for signs of life around him. He did not look up.

Eventually the hidden woman was tempted out from where she lurked. Still, he did not look up. The ptarmigan rustled as he worked his way down one side of the breast, then up the other, building a pile that danced around him.

When he deigned to take a break, he glanced over to the woman to see how she fared. The look on her face was a curious one; Raimo was not accustomed to being feared and he found he disliked the feeling it gave him. Judging from the woman's condition and estimating her age, he had been right in his assumption — not a sister, but a mother.

Why do you look at me that way? He finally asked. Raimo had an ear turned to listen for a reply but he was soon distracted by the ptarmigan before him, and began to peel meat away from the bones.

still-warm blood, pooling beneath her tongue. fatted meat. she forced herself not to devour all of it, to save a good portion of the breast for sialuk. her daughter hunted long hours and surely searched for those who had survived. kukutux did not immediately answer; she limped back toward her ulaq with the remains dangling from her muzzle, and then lay them down to search the man with a seeking gaze.

"because you are man. you are hunter. and i have nothing to barter for what i have eaten." jadeite eyes, dull with pain, pulled away from him to search for sialuk. by now he would see that she was injured, but kukutux could not bring herself to care.

She was an old-world creature in a new body, from the way she moved to the way she spoke. The sound of her steps drew his attention because Raimo thought she would leave without giving an answer; but it came, and he huffed upon hearing it.

Barters were not a new concept to him. It was not common in Round Valley but not unheard of; as he had traveled Raimo had learned of other people and walks of life, but everyone was in need of something, and often he could provide.

Barter later. He states. The crack of the bird's open wing comes next, as he breaks the joint and peels it away. The wing and half the breast he keeps. The rest he pushes away from himself. Besides, you were the one to call for help.

If she hadn't wanted it, she shouldn't have cried to the sky in the first place.

she was stung. it showed in the defeated curve of her shoulders as she bent to gather the torn ptarmigan to herself. "i thank you for answering," kukutux said aloud, though it hurt to speak the spiked words. he was tall even against the ground, dark and sleekly built, like the tigiapak who hunted the edges of the streams in winter.

she lay down in the snow, unwilling to grant him the exact location of the ulaq until she had come to know what sort of man he was. or he until he found it himself, she supposed, though there was nothing to be found inside except bones and a hardpacked floor. 

kukutux soothed her ankle with a brush of her tongue.

The last of the meat he had chosen for himself was torn apart. Swallowed. Stuffed down in haste, maybe. The wing he left where it sat against the snow, spread out, stained pink at the joint where the blood sat and diluted.

Raimo looked from the wing to the woman, watching as she tended to her wounded ankle. He made no move to help her nor to leave, content where he sat. The fresh meat filled his belly and warmed him — made him lethargic, even.

How'd that happen? He asked of her, motioning with a tip of his chin towards the ankle. There were other questions on his mind but Raimo did not see the point in interrogating anyone just to satisfy his curiosity. It would have made for a good story, though.

she could not help but look toward the smears of pink and red in the snow around him. a kill devoured in hunger's relish. she swallowed her own, pressed down her pride. "i lived in a great pack. three sunrises ago, there was a great light. something struck the mountain. when i woke i was far away with a bone that had broken."

it was the truth, and it was too late for kukutux to struggle over allowing him to know or not. she tucked her thinning hindquarters beneath her, and as always, turned the inexorable greenery of her eyes toward moonspear. the spire was silent. she had heard nothing from the shattered stone, and at last lowered her head in silent mourning.

Her tale coincided with what he'd witnessed, so he knew she was being truthful.

The tale told him she was a hardy creature to have lived upon a mountain and then somehow survived its ruin, and so far the girl he'd met — the daughter — had managed to keep them both alive on her own. These were strong people with more stories hidden between them.

The woman looked to the mountain and the dizzying sky.
Raimo watched her; he did not care if she noticed, she could not stop him. As she bowed her head he took a breath and finally got to his feet, as if he had decided something.

I will return here with more meat if I can find it. Raimo says, indicating he will not be leaving the area as readily as she might have liked.

The snow crunched, and he stepped over the broken wing with more care than he'd given the rest of the bird, moving beyond it. Leaving it there as if forgotten.

<3

the duck lifted her head when he spoke, but said nothing. he passed off as if he were stormcloud, and she was left to stare at the wing, surrounded by blood where he had left it.

she wondered if he meant to set it there as marker. or perhaps as gift, but he did not seem the type who gave such. kukutux at last gathered herself to her paws, weaving a bit.

she picked up the last of the ptarmigan and returned slowly to the ulaq, leaving the wing where the mink-man had let it fall.