Ouroboros Spine found a stick on the ground and now i'm gonna use it

Between the bison hunt and the arrival of spring Salaksartok had undergone a growth spurt. His rotund shape had sprouted up and gotten taller, his figure more broad-shaped, and only some of his baby fat had burned away; he was now nearly a year old, give or take a few months, and he looked the part of the gangly teenager with a few extra pounds on him.

He was moving in fits and starts up the hill towards the edge of Moonglow now, tugging at a very large branch (really more of a small tree which he'd pulverized until it had come down, and now he dragged this prize home); his coat was a tangle of debris, and he was layered with so much mud that the scent of Moonglow had been drastically subdued.

As young as he was, Salaksartok appeared to be quite capable when it came to physical pursuits—even pointless ones like this tree abduction. He couldn't balance the thing and carry it home, but he could drag it, as evidenced by the deep cut in the earth that trailed up the main hiking trail towards the village.

Ah!

The muddy boy would run first into his mother, perched upon a fallen log with eyes glinting in humor. Vairë was large now, sides grown, but no less active it seemed. She sought each of her sons with what time she had before she would go to ground, speak to them in stories and easy smiles.

I had thought to find my son, but he appears to not be here! Only this mud boy! Tell me, mud boy, have you seen my son? Her voice was alight with laughter, one paw raised to her nose to try and cover her smile

He did not want to give up the branch even when it got stuck! He pulled and pulled, and he twisted himself in to knots and worked his shoulders until he could only feel the burn of the flesh there, and still he would not relent! The voice of his mother carried over his various grunts and when he'd done all he could, he stopped to gulp at air and let his tongue hang from his face.

Mud boy! Mud boy was not as good as Monster Boy, that Kukutux called him; but he conflated the two and was glad for the epithets. He was a monster! He was a mud boy! A big man, a warrior! He was laughing around the gasps for air and stomped around as if on parade.

No! Your son is dead! I ate him! He was high-stepping playfully along the path, then doubled-back to grab for the branch again, which by now was stuck across the path and would block the way to visitors if it was not fixed. He tugged at this a few times and then when it did not come free, pranced before it with his head and tail up.

I am the mighty mud dragon Loxangúattō! And for emphasis he gave a mighty roar!

Her gasp was loud and theatrical, as Vairë rose to her feet on the log. The paw over her mouth did little to conceal the comical “o” she had on her face.

Oh my! Oh, oh mighty mud dragon, you see that cannot be true! She stretched her head out towards the mud covered boy, for only a moment, before she stomped her foot and puffed out her chest.

My son is victorious hunter! Even you could not defeat him! Soon, he will be man, and he will win and win and win again! Moondoe decreed, and thus it would be true. Vairë bit back a smile, as best she could. Oh, her boy, her eldest boy, how he grew so quick before her eyes.