Moonspear And I looked down into the end of the world and saw the beast

The mesa had welcomed him and when he was returned to health, he abandoned it for a more appropriate climate. The heat there was too much even on a good day; he said nothing, and made his way without thanks, months ago.

As weeks swept him by the last of his sickness seeped from his body. Winter blasted the valley and he headed south, following the herds to where the hunting would be easier, and then back again as spring began to show its face; it wasn't quite here, but Raimo had arrived without fanfare to await it.

A cold snap followed in his wake.

He found the mountainside easily enough, and spent a chilly afternoon navigating some of the paths towards the summit. However, Raimo did not reach the peak - as there appeared to be an abrupt end to the game trails, and from one edge he could look out upon a crater the likes of which he had never before seen. It was as if some immense and angry entity had taken a bite out of the tip of the spear.

Sialuk was in a good mood. The spirits had blessed her with many opportunities this year, and the spear began to feel like home once again. She felt her way now to the pockmark in the mountain, which began to grow new life. She smelled him before she saw him, her nostrils flaring and her eyes narrowing on the dark figure who had once helped build Moonglow. But there was no love in her heart for him.

The raindrop, to any one else, quickly turned to a sharp icicle.

Her lip curled back and her ears flattened against her skull: how dare he visit the place her ancestors lay?

Her hackles raised along her back: how dare he show his face?

Her throat ushered in a growl: how dare he?

He wondered, often, about the road that he tread and the places that sprouted around him. He wondered now about the crater and what it had been before; if this was a healthy place, a holy place, or something inhospitable made better in the wake of the ruin. He was thinking to himself now like a scholar might, or an archaeologist, as a ghost materialized near to him. The sound of her warning made one ear pivot and then, with a swing of his head, Raimo focused his eyes upon her.

For a moment she was not familiar, but he was distracted. His musings became a fiction within his own head, except that muted immediately upon seeing those narrowed eyes. His tongue flicked across his lips and then up across his nose, nostrils flaring.

You are the moonkeeper's daughter, he remembered.

She was far from her village. Perhaps it no longer stood strong? He did not ask, though the desire to know was strong within him. Raimo did not move; he did not think she had the right to send him away, or the strength, and besides he posed no threat to her in the moment — he was invested in his hunt for knowledge.

What happened to this place? Did she know? (A better question would be: would she share the secret to this place if she did?)

He knew her, and he did not retreat. He had the audacity to ask her of this place. This place that meant the world to her, and nothing to him.

The distance between them was not long, and she gave no further warning. Her teeth would be on him. Sialuk was no longer a simpering pup. Moonspear was hers to protect from the likes of him.

to be clear, not an auto-hit!

His question was met with only violence, which he should have anticipated, but had not. Sialuk closed the distance with quick steps and sought his neck with her teeth, managing to grab hold of him and hold him without issue; Raimo neither braced himself in time nor retaliated, and was effectively rammed and grabbed in one solid cleave. It was akin to being held by the shirt collar; rough, with some fabric burn and bruised skin. His only reaction was the spontaneous backturn of his ears and a struggled grimace, which might've been a smile in another life.

You are angry! That was obvious without the comment, but he wanted her to know he saw and understood. He had overstepped somewhere along the way. He was quick to speak, as he was a storyteller: Release me and I will leave. If she wanted to, she could use those teeth to rend from him a pound of flesh — but at this point Raimo could not discern why.

Not everyone was eager to study history, he had to remind himself.

He understood, but only with her jaws around his flesh. Pitiful. Untrustworthy. Menace. He tasted like bile, and Sialuk released him with no tenderness in her movement.

Leave! she bellowed, nipping at his heels. She would not be satisfied until he was out of her sight, off the mountain.

Perhaps he should have remembered his own history before studying that of those he did not know.

When she released him to speak, he moved.

Her body followed him like a boulder along the path opposite, and her bellow was strong enough to break through the wall of an avalanche had there been enough snow; but in this moment Raimo was fortunate, for he could slip away and find a path without obstruction. He had been studying his way up the mountain and could remember the better parts on the way down.

There was no talking to her like this — he would try again, he reasoned, and let his adrenaline guide him to safety.

He retreated, and Sialuk stood a long while to ensure he did not return. With a huff, she returned to the pock-mark on the mountain, placing a sprig of rosemary where Raimo had stood to cleanse the place of his filth.