Rising Sun Valley peregrine

@Ghelan

suliya sat perched atop a jagged rock, her frame still against the bite of the wind as it whispered over the ridge line. below her stretched the tundra, vast and pale, its brittle grasses shifting in waves beneath the low light of the overcast sky. and there, far below, the caribou moved—a slow, purposeful migration of bodies, their antlers rising like twisted branches against the horizon.

her amber eyes tracked them with a quiet intensity, taking in the rhythm of their steps, the sway of their heads, the way their breaths misted in the chill air. they moved as one, a collective mind and heart, yet each carried its own strength, its own will. there was something humbling in their unity, in the simplicity of their journey.

she shifted slightly, her paws brushing against the frost-dusted rock, though she remained silent and still enough to remain unseen by the herd below. this was not her time to disturb, nor her place to intervene. she came only to watch, to listen, to think.

the ridge gave her space to breathe, to let her thoughts drift and settle like the snow that would soon fall here. her gaze lingered on a bull at the edge of the group, his antlers broad and proud, the thick muscle of his neck evidence of battles fought and won. a faint snort left her nostrils, an almost-smile tugging at her lips. strength in form, resilience in purpose—qualities she had long sought to embody herself.

but she was not caribou, nor was her path so clearly marked. her climb would not be so simple as following the herd. there were no tracks to guide her now, no antlers to lock in a fair contest. her climb, like the rock she sat upon, was jagged and uncertain, carved by winds she had yet to understand.

rocks weren't as interesting as seashells.

if they had texture, they were coarse or else they were completely smooth. the most interesting ones had the remains of a bird imprinted on them, but that wasn't enough to make hunting for them as worth it as seashells. each shell had grooves, colors and intricate shapes that made hunting for them interesting at least.

simple thoughts like these guided the troubled boy if only a moment before the bellows of caribou tore him from his meandering. he kept away from them, but he could tell that some had passed nervous glances towards a passing wolf.

familiar velvet fur danced in the autumn winds, and ghelan slouched within himself before forcing a small smile.
do you like it here yet?

suliya hummed softly as she approached, her voice low and melodic, blending with the steady rhythm of the wind and the distant sounds of the caribou. her gaze flickered toward the herd, their shapes moving like shadows across the tundra, before settling on ghelan. the boy looked smaller in this vast, open land, his slouched shoulders betraying something deeper than the forced smile he offered.

i go where the caribou do, she replied simply, a touch of warmth in her tone as she settled a short distance from him, giving him space yet remaining close enough to speak comfortably. her eyes wandered over him, sharp yet not unkind, taking note of the amulet hanging around his neck. a faint glint of recognition sparked in her expression.

your amulet, she began, her voice thoughtful, almost curious. did your mother make it for you?

her words lingered in the air like an autumn leaf caught in the breeze. she leaned slightly forward, her attention briefly returning to the caribou before falling back on ghelan.

even off a cliff? why do we revere them so much? it felt safest to ask her this — he'd already angered father enough.

but her eyes are drawn to his amulet — the one piece of sharadoii that until now he has been allowed to keep.
yes.. she made it for me when she fell ill.. his gaze plummets to the floor, wincing. very ill. back then he was too innocent to know. but now.. he could still see the sorrow and fear mixed in her cherry eyes — the ones that were now his own.

..she's healed, but.. as he sighs, the boy's head cranes upwards. wind pushes his mane and ears. she wouldn't have known then.

suliya nodded at his words, the motion slow and deliberate, her gaze steady on him as though grounding him against the weight of his own admission. the hum that followed was soft and low, carrying the gentle cadence of thought, a sound born of reflection rather than response.

the sharadoii have their traditions, she murmured, her voice quiet but firm, and the muradoii have our own. she shifted slightly, the fur along her shoulders rippling with the movement as the autumn wind whispered between them. 

her icy gaze softened, catching the sorrow that lingered in his cherry-red eyes. i hope she thrives. she said after a pause, the words warm but deliberate. she knew too well how illness in another could leave an ache in the heart of the ones who loved them.

a moment passed in silence, broken only by the distant bellows of caribou. then, with a subtle motion, suliya shook the fur around her neck, revealing the intricate trinket she wore. it swayed gently with her movements, a pattern of knotted teeth, wolf furs, and caribou dewclaws woven together with purpose. this is mine, she said simply, her voice steady, but there was something deeper in the way she spoke—an unspoken understanding of what these small pieces of the past could mean.

muradoii.. what is that? the boy cocks a brow. he'd never heard of this third faction before. i thought you were lanzadoii? could you truly be both?

his curiosity dwindles when she speaks of aaka. his mother.. thriving. he nods, even if in his gut he knew the truth.
surely by now she must've noticed by now his absence. how soon then will moontide be on saatsine's trail? or had they guessed correctly, and left the boy to lead his own fate. time will tell, and time has always been cruel.
but maybe, for once, with time she will heal. perhaps she will have better sons. sons that dont hobble, and sons that don't leave her.

as if sensing his encroaching loneliness, she showed what lied on her chest — an amulet much like his own. different, but the same. he stared at it for long, before nodding.
..what does it mean?

lanzadoii by my father, she answered him, quietly. there was no shame in having muradoii blood— it was revered, sought after, even. suliya had known things beyond comprehension of these vital times. she knew how to pillage. scorn, raid. all of the things they don't teach you as a lanzadoii, much less sharadoii.

but my blood is thick with muradoii roots. a flash of sun eater appeared in her mind, a brute only concordant of lanzadoii tradition. she had known both worlds, but her heart laid with the muradoii.

they are woven into my neck, bindings of fur that can never be undone. a tooth, her first that she had lost. a shell, for the deed of her birth. a canine tooth of her first kill. a patch of wolfsfur— a caribou dewclaw.

a beat of silence. my life written in ornaments. she pulled from her paws, a feather of a bird that she had found just moments after her introduction to saatsine's ranks.

will you help me with this one? she laid it before ghelan, turning her head to the left, letting him nip at her furs to settle it into place.

muradoii pride shone through her words like morning sun spilling through the peaks of mountains. a smile — genuine this time — creeps along ghelan’s face.

he takes the feather, and gently reaches for a tuft of fur. this was different to amulet weaving, yet not at the same time. at the very least, the past months have granted ghelan better dexterity.
like dish? a spark in his eye, an enthusiasm once thought buried. ghelan pulls back to peak at his handiwork — or lack there of. did i do it right?

she’d shared hers, now ghelan glanced down towards his own piece. the largest tooth pulled from a caribou. aapa. the second molar, much smaller. aaka. a small shell, held in the middle. me. and the dull white tuft from his mother that blanketed them all. home.

suliya gave her fur a brisk shake, testing the hold of the feather he had tied. it held firm, and she turned her gaze to ghelan, her grey eyes gleaming with quiet approval. though she did not voice her thoughts, the boy’s effort and care pleased her. yes, she decided silently, he was a good boy.

leaning closer, her curiosity shifted to his own amulet. she sniffed at the tooth, her nose brushing against the faint scent of age and wisdom embedded in its surface. her gaze flicked up to his as he explained its parts, her ears perking slightly at the reverence in his tone. aapa. aaka. me. home. the words settled in her chest, warm and grounding, much like the caribou’s steady presence on the land.

you did well, she said at last, her voice low but certain, the words carrying the weight of genuine praise. your paws are careful. it shows. she pulled back, her expression softening, though the strength of her muradoii pride lingered in her bearing.

though, sun eater would much prefer the calloused, deadweight paws of a runner. she knew this. she ignored it.

her gaze returned briefly to the amulet around his neck, as if memorizing the story it told. it is good to carry home with you, she added after a moment, a rare note of gentleness slipping into her tone. it makes the journey lighter.