Ouroboros Spine xxiii. in each others wounds

AW (but hoping for @Kukutux if you've got time ) chronicler #1 (historian)

Though Aiwë's secondary trade as a lore-keeper had fallen far to the wayside, especially here of late, the dove felt an inspiration to pick the trade back up. Perhaps it was brought on by some measure of guilt that Raimo had gone from the pines, thinking that perhaps if she had just agreed to be his second he might have stayed and fixed things with Kukutux. Maybe it was for the best though, the artisan had feared that eventually the dark hunter's conflict with Adrastus would come to blows. Either way, she thought it might be prudent that someone become a living record of sorts -- a breathing tome of the customs that the village's wisewoman might expect them to follow.

She sought Kukutux out, bringing with her a small bundle of the yellow flowers she had found -- which had turned out to not be chickweed, coincidentally. They were mildly poisonous if ingested but altogether harmless so long as one didn't eat them. She thought the blooms of cheerful yellow might inspire happiness, especially since it might be saddening for the moonwoman to speak of her past -- as Aiwëndil hoped she might be willing to. 

lótë would find the moonwoman upon her hearth, arranging plants into a gradient of green. she meant to dry them on the stone shelf above, where already strips of fish-meat and berries welcomed the change that the sun would bring. "sister," she said softly, looking up at the tread of the cloudberry woman.

a spray of yellow blooms accompanied the deer-hunter. kukutux let her greenstone eyes travel over them, tapping soil and leaf remnants from her paws. "what have you found?" she did not know the name for it, but the blossoms seemed familiar. yet she would wait for the cloudberry she-wolf to speak, inviting her closer with a tip of her head.

The title inspired a stirring of the fallow agouti's tail -- grateful again to have found a fast friend in the moondrop -- as she drifted to a stop beyond the wisewoman's threshold. She set the blooms of cheerful yellow upon the ground between them, settling on fawn haunches before answering: "The name in my language is quite long." It was said with some amusement. "But I have heard it called 'creeping jenny' or 'yellow parsley'."

"It is poisonous," she warned gently, gesturing to the long stem which she had carried it by. The blossoms themselves seemed to be the deadly part and only when ingested. "But only if eaten. It is mostly harmless and quite pretty in my opinion," the dove explained. She trusted that the moonwife was responsible enough to handle a plant properly -- she managed a pack and had raised children before. "It looks quite like chickweed, which healers often use."

creeping jenny. yellow parsley. chickweed. "a plant that has many names. i would hear them each," she offered, wondering if the tea-woman's tongue was like her own. their ways were at once both similar and different, in the way that the wolves of the sea-ice had not been the same as the walrus hunters.

but they had known one another, and traded between them.

poisonous. kukutux tipped her ears forward, searching them slowly and committing details to her memory. "it has much beauty. it is something to be respected." perhaps a spirit lived within the petals. a glance back to lótë. "what is the use of chickweed? it has differences," she remembered, ready to learn something which she did not already know.

The fawn-pelted agouti paused for a moment, hesitant to speak the tongue she had given up with her name. But she had found a good friend in Kukutux, a sister, and found that she could not say no -- she trusted the Moon with her mother's tongue. "Jeninnimë. Parslëimme. Malin." she offered each of the titles by turn, her octaves lilting naturally in the melodic tones of her former people as if she had never lost her accent. 

"Aye," she agreed softly, with a small clearing of her throat as her gaze moved back to the plant momentarily -- feeling as if she had admitted to some long-kept secret. "Chickweed is often used to treat greencough. And I have heard that it is good for swelling and relieving arthritic pains," she offered, though she was no expert when it came to healing. This just happened to be a tidbit she had picked up, for the ecologist figured it was prudent that all wolves should know some basic first aid. 

lótë spoke.

the brush of featherdown against one's lips; the silk of a well-cured leather beneath the paw of a child. the notes swayed together and wound into silver and sungold; kukutux was dazzled, near breathless to hear the first things that the cloudberry woman had ever spoken in the words of her people.

at least to her own ears.

"your spirits will never forget your name," moonwoman said reverently, only now focusing on what else her sister had said. "this is like a spirit-plant," she remarked of the offering. "i will put it in my worshipping-place."

For a second, the two-year stiffened -- wide, fearful optics flying to Kukutux's moonlit features. Her peridots flickered, scanning for some sign that the wisewoman knew the heavy things that weighed upon her soul. But there was nothing to be found and the girl's eyes slid away again, heart pounding an uneven rhythm of relief. The words sank in then, her eyes misting lightly with a different relief -- fervently hoping it was true before she again buried Elenwë's daughter. 

 "I'm glad you like it," she said, lips quirking lightly. The silence settled for a moment before the herd-stalker found the courage to approach the topic she'd come to speak of. "Kukutux, it's my desire to serve as Moonglow's keeper of lore. I was wondering...would you tell me about Moonglow's history? How you came to found the pack and where its traditions come from?" 

"If it is too painful...you can always say no," Lótë reassured, already knowing part of the story about how Moonglow had come to be. The last thing she wanted was to make the Moon relive Moonspear's ruin in the midst of her healing.

for a long moment the duck was silent, considering. she was more mended at this time, and while thoughts of the ruined mountain still gnawed at her in quiet nights, she felt perhaps readied, as she had not been before.

"i was traded to moonspear for something i did not understand." but her lips were soft in the telling. "i was brought to him — to moonspear. i had told to my leader i wanted a husband, and she told to me that she would find for me one in another land."

"but when i came to moonspear, she said i was trade for something she had taken from them. they all had the name of ostrega. the first brother said i would not be traded. the second was blackfox and angutik to me. he took me as wife when the fever came to me."

"after i bore the raindrop and the ice-crystal to his hearth, i became more of myself. more mother. later, i said that i would be atsak. in this, blackfox was kind. he stood beside me." a breath now. "i brought with my the ways of my mother. my skins. the drying of meat. the way to be a proper wife. i gave him much happiness."

careful now, lest she stray into memory.

"the star came. the first brother found me. arcturus." a pause. "he brought me to this place. i said i would die here, for i knew my law-sister to be dead. but sialuk found me in this place. blackfox and moon-hunter boy; they did not come down. moonspear is no more. it is a land of graves now. that way," in the direction of the glacier, "the third brother is buried. moonglow is close to these places. we keep my ways and we keep the name of ostrega. i am ostrega, as is sialuk. and zane as well, though he was not so close. we are what is remaining."

Lótë became enwrapped in the tale as Kukutux wove it, wondering silently with awe if perhaps the matchmaker had not chosen the wrong profession. This was not to say that she was not an exceptional healer or wisewoman to their tribe but as she spoke, the greenpaw felt she was transported back in time to the Land of Many Elms. In her mind's eye, an elder figure -- a wizened woman with rheumy eyes and a loose fold of skin at her underbelly from having borne many children -- flickered, her features having been lovingly painted by one daughter or another, bright with color and life as she regaled their people with fables of their origin. 

The beginning sent a spike of concern through her, hearing how Kukutux had been traded to Moonspear but she was relieved to hear how the raindrop's former pack mates had been kind. How she had found a husband and even herself through her marriage to the man she called blackfox -- a man who took on the face of Antares in her head, older though and somewhat in shadow, only a vague resemblance, as if she could picture him -- and in bringing her customs to her newfound home as she would later do in Moonglow.

When the duck spoke of the mountain's end, the morning dove felt she could sense Kukutux's grief echoing in her chest -- though it could not feel so great as what the Alpha had lost when Moonspear fell. Husband and child, kin and home. Or maybe it was her own, the grief of a girl who had once lost all and been left in the hands of a monster. She could not say for sure.

"Thank you for telling me this." The doe spoke only when Kukutux had fallen silent and seemed to have no more to say, dipping her head in a gesture of gratitude and respect. She felt she understood the woman better and their tribe as a whole too, a newfound pride ringing through her for what she had helped to build. She felt a bond of loyalty forge to the family her Alpha mentioned, to the Ostrega bloodline and the legacy they had founded within Teekon. That Kukutux had continued. Perhaps she was not an Ostrega herself but she was moonwolf all the same now.

"I think your loved ones would be proud of you, Kukutux," she murmured softly, carefully. "You have honored them well by continuing to live and thrive. I think they would have wanted you to go on and try to find happiness again."

"We will continue to honor them, all of Moonglow. Moonspear will never be forgotten and the Ostregas will live on through you and Sialuk, Zane and your kin. Even by us, even if we don't bear your surname," she promised with a small smile, hoping it might comfort the northron even a little. Her children would be raised alongside Kukutux's, Sialuk was to train to bring them into this world. It went without saying that Adrastus was unfalteringly loyal to the Moon and Star of the village. Her family would be entangled with Kukutux's for as long as both stood. 

the telling of this left kukutux with a great tiredness. lótë filled the moments between with her interest, the shifting of her expressions, the openness with which she accepted moonwoman's words — the softness she used to speak now, healing some deep hurts in kukutux with a sister's love and adoration, and praise for who the duck had become.

it spilled crystalline fields to the woman's cheekbone; she closed her eyes tightly, if only to stop the brinebit current from flooding her again. no words to be said; no words came to her mind, only a sob and a nod and a clutching of control that was no longer hers to command.

"you are all my clan now," kukutux ventured when she was able. upon her lips, the faintest stirrings of a smile wavered. "if i had not gone through such a hard path, i would not have made our first meeting, lótë. i would not have happiness in a place where we did not meet."

grateful, after a fashion; grateful for it all.

she thought now, strangely, of raimo; she thought of where he might be; of how he might have found his own path and own joy. of the grey brother. of arcturus, for whom she wished the same.

"adrastus is blessed to have your favour."

The doe's jaw slackened slightly, peridots going wide for a heartbeat when her words caused the matchmaker to cry. Her own pale emeralds glossed over a moment later, ears folding back as she padded to the Moon's side and let her side press flush against Kukutux's. The closest gesture a wolf had for providing a shoulder to cry on. She touched her temple briefly against the duck's alabaster shoulder, offering this gesture of comfort in place of words.

It was hard to believe so much grief and loss could be worth meeting her, but she smiled gently -- having to fight back tears of her own pain. How long since anyone had been happy to see her, let alone keep her company? "I'm grateful to have met you as well. I never had a sister and now I have found several," she laughed lightly, the noise still a bit wet as if clogged with unshed tears, thinking of Sialuk and Keyni and even Shikoba. 

Her smile turned a bit shy, green gaze flitting to the trees as her thoughts turned to the spiritbear. "I think perhaps the spirits blessed me. I could love him, very easily." If she didn't already that was. "Aiolos is blessed to have yours as well."

"I think you once said that you cannot marry as Moon to the village...might I ask why, if you are not tired of speaking of such things, that is?" The two-year asked, somewhat hesitantly. "Why can't a woman be both?" She didn't quite understand why Kukutux was allowed to bear Aiolos' cubs but was forbidden from marrying him if she so desired.

lótë came closer, and kukutux felt some deeply pained place within her suddenly thrill to life with greenery and a rush of healing. she had loved the blackbear woman, but this was different: moonglow was not moonspear, after all.

she had made a new place that belonged to those who had built it from the snow and the mud with her.

the mention of adrastus filled her with joy, and the secret satisfaction of an atsak. new life in their village, new children, new names.

the warmth in her only settled slightly at the cloudberry wolf's question. "i must do what is best for moonglow, always. if i have husband, then i am wife. not moonwoman. i can only have one path. if i marry, he too must be chieftain in this village. that is the way of things. and i am not ready, yet, to have another husband."

the blackfox, and the pain he had left, still lingering in echoes.

"I understand," Lótë demurred softly, offering another brush of comfort to the Moon's winter pelt. She supposed she didn't really, never having been married before. But she and Adrastus were set to be wed and would eventually have children of their own; the cloudberry tried to picture losing him, or the shadowed faces of their unborn children, and felt her heart shudder with a cold shiver. She pushed the horrid thought away, unable to bear even this sliver of Kukutux's pain. 

She felt that the conversation had come to a close, that the spiritwoman had grown weary of their topics. And even the birdcaller had fatigued of such heavy, draining subjects -- she did not want to keep prying for information. More would come in time, as the Ostrega women healed and grew more comfortable with speaking of such things. Or perhaps they would not, that was okay too. There were other sources Lótë might seek out -- Keyni had been a part of the pack that was allied with Moonspear. Even if she hadn't been there long or didn't know much about its history, the former Firefly was still worth seeking out. 

"What were you doing when I came?" she asked the ivory she-wolf, glancing back at the arrangement of food and herbs. "I could help with the drying." She gave a gentle dip of her head, as if to silently say that she would also leave if the Alpha wished to be alone.

kukutux was indeed weighed by their words, but not with the presence of lótë. she gave a grateful and affectionate smile as the other turned aside their conversation to easier things: tasks and the doing of them. "this would bring me much joy," the duck said more brightly.

"i will teach to your ears a song my sister once made, when she was angry that our mother had given her many tasks that day. we went to the rocks beside the sea, and we took the good itik eggs, and she sang,"

kukutux, starting back to her work once more,

girls do not need their mother forever!

what the old ones say is wrong!

i am angry! i say to you, i will go and find a husband,

then i will not have to gather;

my husband will hunt, aiyana, aiyana,

then i will only watch and laugh!

It was good to abandon sorrow for the easy and soothing work of cutting the meat and arranging everything neatly to dry. Girlish laughter ensued as the moonwife relayed the song and attempted to teach Lótë the lyrics — which she stumbled over and butchered in her first attempts. Thankfully, Kukutux was patient and both were able to find good humor in the herd-watcher’s mispronunciations. 

Even after she had left her village-sister’s ulaq, the dove found herself humming the tune softly beneath her breath as she wound her way through the valleys of the Spine — occasionally vocalizing the words with a soft smile, the song whispering through the pines.