Firefly Glen [m] revelarlos

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Month’s nearly gone by the time the dog pushes northward out of the prairie. Come-out of the flat inland sea into green far as he can scout. Real pretty country, too, the kind mujeres back home’d weep over. Niño sucks a wad of tartar off his front teeth and spits.

He finds himself a nice little spot under a sprawling tree to do his prospecting. More wolf populations here, the jefes would be keen to know it. He’s tucked in pretty good until a duo of crows call out his position, hawking their caws directly overhead.

Pinches pájaros.

lmk know if not good! had a random idea

"what will you trade at this hunt for good furs?" kukutux asked of @Ipiktok, moving down the now-worn path to the place of fireflies.

she spoke of his ulaq, wanting the young man to turn his effort upon renewing his land as a first step.

rodyn had been here, setting camps.  blackbirds rose. it was not the husband of her daughter she saw now. it was a stranger. 

tautukpik and akmaaski halted at their heels. kukutux glanced at the son of her daughter. this place was not claimed, but to linger perhaps implied a desire to meet. 

"this woman greets you," she called into the cool shade cast by the tree. tones soft, the springjade eyes nevertheless waited to appraise.

can be skipped until needed just retag him.

Rodyn had been gone for only a few days when he found himself bsck near the glen. But he wasn't alone and it wasn't a scent he knew. He did notice moonwoman though. And silently walked up beside her.

Ears perked forward. Yellow eyes staring at the forest line. Who was here. They did not have claim to this but his scent was thick and heavy all throughout from all the organizing

absolutely! thank you both for joining!

He’s been spotted.

Mierda.

No time to turn on the charm. Never came naturally to him like it did to the jefes. The boy needed time to remember how to crank his mouth into anything that wasn’t a scowl.

First it’s a woman. He can't make out the stream of young ones at her tail from his vantage in the weeds, and so he thinks maybe his luck has turned afterall. Pretty, real pretty. Old. But he wasn’t all that impartial. Nothing personal, he was a man and a man has needs.

But then comes a man to her side, and so he’s forced to resign that train of thought. He liked a chase but he wasn’t looking to catch his death.

The pause is brief. The dog rises up from the barrage of caws and burr-infested thickets to stand as an uncanny pillar beneath the tree’s shade. A whetted gaze riffles over the kids now, knows how territorial pack wolves are. Let them approach and call the shots– or he'd be deemed the threat he certainly was.

“Hola,” comes dark and guttural out of a throat shredded by the green. Woman wasn’t speaking the common, and unless she knew spanish there'd be no mutual tongue. Didn't matter. Boy knew this song and dance.

“Soy comerciante," he responds again, this time the side of his mouth yanking to reveal yellow-stained canines.

Don’t want to slow y’alls roll at all, so this can just be a cameo unless Ipi’s referenced again :D

“Perhaps a large turtle shell I discovered,” Ipiktok suggested as his bi-colored eyes searched their corners in thought. Their conversation pleasently meandered on the topic of trading until it branched away to discuss his future ulaq. A man’s hearth was a keystones of his life.

Their paths converged with two others. Ipiktok knew Rodyn as alpha of Moontide…. though the memory of the leader was from the great bison hunt of his childhood.

The second was a stranger with a look unlike the Moonwolf clade.

Rodyn joined Kukutux. Ipiktok was not far behind and observed the strange-speaking foreigner with a curious gaze.

<3

he was not one of her own, and for this reason was kukutux moved toward vague suspicion. yet she remained an emblem of politeness, shaking her head as the unfamiliar words sounded.

rodyn beside her and ipiktok as well, their present strength reminding the duck that the power of the moonwolves could be called upon when it was needed.

she offered the words again in their common speak, amending it to, "i greet you, stranger." kukutux did not think she had heard his tongue before, finding the rolled accents appealing and familiar.

They appear in near silence, emerging from their borders to stand as a fierce confederacy. The men stare him down, perhaps sensing he is a thing to condemn.
He’s careful. He’s got to be if he wants to leave with his hide intact. But if he plays this right, he’ll have landed the jefes a new client.
Maybe their biggest yet.

The pretty woman speaks again. It’s the common, he knows that much.

“No ingles,” he purls. He waves the tail. His chin tucks, presenting himself as calmly and respectfully as the hound is capable.
“Comercio.” Kindly merchant.

And to demonstrate his goodwill, the dog offers to the group a wrapped leaf parcel, its contents tinting the air with both sweet and bitter aromas.

“Medicamento,” he entices the trio. Magic. A treatment for any ailment.

flowing through gestures of kind show, the man offered a parcel of herbal origin, its scents already forcing her nostrils into a curious flare.

honeyed floral mingled with the darker curl of leaves she had never before seen. pulling the corners of the skin more widely upon the earth, kukutux assessed the botanage with a practiced paw.

it remained unfamiliar, though she had the sense it was to be "eaten?" she asked, lifting her springmint eyes to the stranger as she gestured hand to mouth.

wariness remained forefront, but flanked by ipiktok and rodyn, the children silent at their heels, kukutux did not see reason to fear. a man with a gift. a strange man, yes, and one who spoke nothing she understood.

but would not this land quite soon be filled with those unknown to nuiruk? 

and was not now the name of the sunshine people known far due to the great journeys rodyn had made?

akmaaski carried a fine otterskin which the duck had meant for a water bag; now she took it from her granddaughter and offered it to the man.

the bundle would remain in her ulaq until she was able to discern what it might be. the perfect hide she offered now was appreciation and an emblem of skill possessed by her people. 

"good trade," she told him, curiosity still glinting in the shrewd jade depths of her gaze.

the clans welcomed traders. she stood poised to do the same.

“Si, comer,” a nod. Hungry eyes watch her hands.
First, the feeling.
Then the visions.
Then, addiction.

Teeth shine, nice n’ wide for the woman and her family.

His nose sniffs out what was offered in return. Some kind of animal hide, real well adhered together. A lot of detail and care goes into something like this. Almost made the hound feel guilty for targeting them.
And now he needed a hit.

Hide’s slung over his shoulders. He could fit a lot of green in this.
'Good trade,' pretty one mutters in the common.
Good investment, Niño thinks.

their trade was finished. "will you eat? co-mer," she attempted, a sheen of apology across her springjade eyes.

dried elkmeat was produced. she held out fat from the same beast, breaking pieces to share between the moonglow family and the trader.

the meal solidified the exchange; it told the man's protective spirits that moon-land was a safe place to walk.

once — upon the sea ice — he might have been offered all manner of hospitality.

only elk fat now, elk fat and warm faces.

He was hungry on the best of days. Now the cloying scent of elk gathers as spittle in his jowls. A passing tongue clears half, the rest puddles in the dirt at his feet.

She even tries his language.
Damn near broke his heart.

The falcon slinks forward, snatching up a hunk of meat and retreating. He chews crassly, like a grimey sewer rat at a tea party.
Eyeing pretty one. Swallow.
The family next, tall, broad men, and children too, little children at their sides. Swallow.

This was weird.
Elk was good.

He sidles up again for a second helping.

given, given until no more fat remained. kukutux wore a broad grin. "you come back?" she inquired, attempting to describe a departure and then a return with some gesturing. 

it was not a matter of trust, but rather the duck's confidence: why would any dark thing be raised against her offer of friendship?

the glen would be a place of trade, a crossroads. it was moon-land, and she was gracious in the paths she allowed to be made upon its face.

ambition, raising some minute claw in the eddies of her spirit.

Chewed. Stared. Was all he could do.
The boy’d never had it so good. Meat so tender it melts on the tongue. Folks to eat calmly beside, no din about meal time or whose share’s too big.

This older lady, she’s not really so naive. The reality where this is all some elaborate setup crosses his mind. Maybe he was the one being played a fool.
But he gulped down as much as he could and even cleared the dirt of any leftover fatty juices. Wondered if he could coax from them some more elk if he stayed put. But that was that.

“Sí,” he nods. He’d be back. In a few weeks, if all goes to plan, when they’re jonesing for more green, her whole village would be celebrating his return like the second coming. Green for elk. He’d pick up several more of these satchels for los jefes. Girls for his bed, too. They’d be throwing themselves at him.

The hound sucks wind through his teeth and takes turns to take his leave.
But he stops.
Turns to look over his shoulder at pretty one and a little face by her legs.

“Señora. Los niños.” His chin juts, first towards the herb, then the little girl. “No comida medicamento. No– eat.”

Call it pity, call it weakness. It sure as hell wasn't morality. Just didn’t wanna have to deal with annoying tykes, is all.
He slips off then.
Adios.