Qeya River fables

for @Other Shore

star eater moved methodically, her paws sifting through the collection of herbs she had gathered, sorting them into neat piles upon the soft caribou hides that covered the den’s floor. the space was dimly lit, the glow of the morning barely spilling through the entrance, but it was warm—floral aromas hanging in the air, mixing with the rich scent of dried herbs and the lingering musk of her mate.
the stranger lay nearby, nestled into the furs, her breathing slow and steady. star eater had checked her wounds—nothing severe, only exhaustion that had claimed her like a storm. she would wake soon, and when she did, she would find herself in a space carefully tended, a healer’s sanctuary.
but even as she worked, her thoughts were elsewhere. sun eater’s words lingered in her mind, pressing upon her like the weight of a hand upon her back. stay near your den.
she inhaled slowly, quieting the irritation that threatened to surface. for now, she would do as he asked. but she was no delicate thing, no fragile wife to be coddled. her body still remembered battle, still knew the taste of blood on her tongue.
with a flick of her ear, she returned her focus to the herbs, fingers brushing over a sprig of sweetdust. it would soothe aching muscles, calm the nerves—when the girl awoke, she would give it to her.
she watched, waiting. the slow rise and fall of the stranger’s breath was the only movement in the den. outside, the sounds of the taiga carried on—distant voices of the saatsine, the murmur of the wind through the pines.
wake soon, she murmured, to no one in particular. i wish to know who you are.

Many smells. Many, many smells.

No wind.

Something soft caressing her legs and belly, like many tails, but also not a tail, caught Other Shore's attention and snagged onto it. An odd form of comfort, but it nonetheless kept her warm as the exhaustion slowly ebbed away.

She felt no wind, but there was wind. Breath. 

Other Shore's eyes flickered open. The same woman, watching... watching what? 

Her eyes flickered to the floor, covered in many flat tails. Hides, she remembered - is that what they were? And they were large, yet soft. And then she saw piles of... what were they, herbs? Little scattered things resembling leaves on the edge of her blurry vision, colors that shouldn't exist in winter.

Even her home had never been so... strangely inviting yet foreign. Aromas of what looked like herbs fused with strange scents, riding on unceasing winds.  

She turned her gaze back to the woman and tried to speak, her words rolling off her tongue sluggishly. Where... am...?

you are safe, star eater murmured, voice low but certain. she watched as the girl's eyes flickered over the space, taking in the hides, the herbs, the warmth that surrounded them. there was a slowness to her movements, a sluggishness born of exhaustion, but she was awake. that was enough.
my den, she clarified, shifting where she sat, sorting through the herbs with practiced ease. she plucked a bundle from the pile, inspecting it for a moment before setting it aside. you collapsed by the river. i brought you here.
her gaze lingered, searching, though for what, she could not say. this girl—this stranger—had been a heap of frozen limbs when she found her. and yet she lived.
do you remember your name?

"Safe?" Another odd word. Other Shore hadn't been familiar with that feeling of "being safe" for a very, very long time. 

She was in a... den. Yes, a den, apparently. The woman's den. She had never seen one as warm and intricately decorated as this den in a while. In her mind, a den was typically a bleak cave where wind scarcely invaded and the cold remained at bay for some time, however brief. 

The woman continued speaking, and though Other Shore couldn't quite grasp every word, she could, at the very least, comprehend that she was saying something about having found her collapsed by a river and bringing her here. A river... the image of it seemed to elude her, though she trusted the woman's words. No wonder she was in possession of such an abundant store of herbs in winter.

For just a brief moment, Other Shore took note of her gentle yet firm movements, her tender gaze, and felt her exhaustion being overtaken by a greater sense of curiosity. The woman's gaze lingered on her. Do you remember your name? she asked. At the very least, she could understand each and every word clearly, without her fatigue rendering her stumbling over everything.

Her name... very few wolves had ever heard her name, let alone called her by it. My name... Should she say it? She had little trust with this woman, but also all the world's trust in her, both at the same time. ...Other Shore.

She waited for a moment, watching. Looking for any changes on the woman's expression, any subtle reaction. Deciding to fill the silence, she added, Your... name...?

other shore.
star eater repeated the name, tasting the shape of it on her tongue. it felt like something distant, something just out of reach—like an echo carried by the wind across the qeya river. fitting, perhaps.
i am star eater, she told the girl, voice steady, holding. you are in my den. in saatsine lands. my husband is the chieftain here.
she shifted where she sat, gaze sharp but not unkind as she studied the young girl more closely now that she was awake. frail, exhausted, but not beyond saving.
you were in the river, she reminded her, softer now, though she did not coddle. you were half-frozen when i found you. do you remember how you got there?

"Star Eater"... a beautifully strange name, Other Shore noted as she repeated it to herself in her head. Star Eater, Star Eater, Star Eater. Gentle and terrifying. Back home, a name like this would be a truly rare find. Other Shore took an odd liking to it. And "Sun Eater"... yet another peculiar name. Fitting for Star Eater's mate, and definitely very fitting for a chieftain. Firm and powerful. 

Other Shore's ears perked up at Star Eater's mention of that place called "Saatsine". Or was it a place? A pack, maybe? The name of the river? Saat...sine... she muttered, without realizing she was talking out loud. The word rolled off her tongue

Strange, strange names. 

Did she remember how she got here? Other Shore struggled to pull memories from her head, still swimming through fatigue. Star Eater's eyes were staring at her, not quite glaring, just... watching, with an unusual soft coldness. Under the woman's gaze, Other Shore searched for an answer, and found none. She could only recall running... running from something, and not stopping until she collapsed.

I... don't know, she responded quietly. I was running from... something... and I forgot to stop...

Even as she said it out loud, her own words sounded strange to her. Running, and then just forgetting to stop? It sounded to her like a lie as much as she knew she was telling the truth. 

 

star eater watched the girl, silent for a moment, observing the flicker of uncertainty that crossed her face. she did not press—there was no need. whatever had sent other shore running had not followed her here. she was safe now.
then rest, she murmured, shifting to her stores of herbs once more. she plucked another bundle, careful in her selection, and set it down before the girl. chew these. they will ease the ache in your muscles.
her voice was even, calm, carrying the kind of authority that left little room for argument but did not demand obedience through force. star eater had learned, over time, that the best way to guide was not with a heavy hand, but with a steady one.
you are safe here, she said, her tone softer now, as if trying to press the words into the girl’s bones. but only if you stay by my side. do you understand?
her gaze was sharp, unwavering. this was not a question, not truly—it was a warning wrapped in care.

sorry! I know this reply is a bit late

Other Shore blinked for a moment, absorbing Star Eater's words. It was a command, albeit a gentle one. She gave it a little lick as always, then chewed them, trying to decipher the unusual taste but found no words that could describe it. As she chewed, she searched Star Eater's gaze for anything hidden - a hint of exhaustion? Resentment for the trouble she caused? But she found nothing but firm stillness.

She was safe here, Star Eater said, and Other Shore believed her, nodding to her words. Whether Star Eater's words were a command, a warning, or a question, she couldn't quite tell, but she could, at the very least, understand her intention to keep her safe. She had little energy to even get up, let alone exit this den and run away. And besides, she had no reason to return in the direction she came from, and probably didn't have the strength to cross the river. 

Ah, well. She would be here for while, it seemed. She trusted Star Eater enough to stay by her side, and the den was welcoming enough to convince her to rest for a while.

Once she had finished chewing, she asked Star Eater, This place... the river is called... Saatsine? Or is Saatsine the name of the pack? Or... the den? Perhaps a den named Saatsine was a bit far-fetched, but Other Shore had seen enough oddly named locations to take a few wild guesses.

star eater settled herself, the scent of herbs thick around them as she pressed a paw to one of the bundles she had sorted.
qeya river, she corrected gently, her voice low and measured. saatsine is my people. caribou hunters. her pale eyes swept over the young woman, assessing the way exhaustion still clung to her, the way her body remained weak with recovery. she had carried burdens before. she would carry this one, too.
we will move, when my young are weaned. her voice was firm, certain. until then, you are safe here.
a pause, and then softer, you are in my den.

Other Shore pondered Star Eater's response for a moment. "Qeya River". Another name completely foreign to her ears, yet nonetheless unusually pretty. And "Saatsine"... one more strange name, fitting for caribou hunters, she supposed. 

Other Shore had been so fixated on the names that she had to force herself to recall what Star Eater said afterwards... something about weaned pups? Oh, right - they would move when Star Eater's pups were weaned. So she was right about the woman being a mother, after all - the gentleness of her gaze had led her to the assumption earlier. 

"Safe". What a weird word. Other Shore found herself quickly developing an interest to that word, as she did all other words, which was, perhaps, just another one of her habits. Her constant loneliness on her adventures had led her to savor every moment spent with wolves who wouldn't kill her on sight, and that thing called "safety" was a concept that became distant to her the moment she left her home. 

And - well, she shouldn't have been surprised at the den not being named Saatsine. Most people didn't put in the effort of giving specific names to dens, and it appeared that the Saatsine were the same. Perhaps she was spending too long ruminating about each word that left Star Eater's mouth and not enough time actually resting.

After a long silence, the only reply Other Shore could muster was a measly thank you. In response to Star Eater keeping her safe, perhaps? Hmm. The still-fading exhaustion wasn't letting her think straight. 

She laid her head down for a moment and simply savored the silence, waiting for curiosity to bubble into her mind again. She had no energy to waste on small talk, and Star Eater probably wouldn't enjoy being continuously pestered. Unless, of course, Star Eater had more questions for her.

star eater watches the girl with a quiet intensity, the flicker of the den’s dim light catching in her golden eyes. she is young. soft. unmoored. she does not smell of a pack—of family, of home.
where did you come from? her voice is even, but there is something pointed in her tone. she has seen enough of the world to know that wolves do not wander alone unless something has sent them into the wilds.
she shifts, drawing a bundle of dried herbs closer to her, sorting them absentmindedly between her paws. why are you unattended?
there is no accusation in the question, only curiosity laced with something heavier. she is no fool. she knows what the world does to those without shields, without names strong enough to make others think twice. she knows what happens to girls without homes.

Other Shore blinked. I am from beyond a valley, she replied, trying to remember her journey into these lands. I tried to follow a muddy river. Got lost... and... she tried to recall what she could. ... and then I saw a big hill. That hill ended in a steep cliff. Kept walking and got here. 

It was only after the words left her mouth did she realize that Star Eater had probably been referring to her home. She hadn't been lying when she said that her home was beyond a valley, but where exactly, she failed to remember. 

"Unattended". Other Shore had never been described as "unattended" before. Of course there was no one with her. The Saatsine people were, among the few wolves she'd met, perhaps the only pack to not greet her with immediate hostility. She slowly came up with an answer as she observed Star Eater continue with her herb sorting. Home... she explained, was on a big, cold field. A few hills and streams and short grasses, nothing much more. There was little food, so I left alone.

A simple explanation, she supposed, but one that worked. Other Shore couldn't fully remember what had happened - it had been quite long since her departure - but she trusted her memory enough.

She peered curiously at Star Eater, at her unreadable expression and intense eyes. Did you come from another home, too? she asked quietly. Star Eater knew quite a lot about her, yet she knew little about the woman. Were you also... what was the word Star Eater had used? ... unattended?

star eater listened, absorbing each word with a quiet intensity. other shore’s story, fragmented as it was, carried the weight of a journey taken alone. the mention of a cold field, of scarce food, did not surprise her. there were many places like that—places that forced wolves to move, to wander, to seek what they could not find in the lands of their birth.
it must be beautiful. her voice was soft, contemplative. she imagined the open field stretching endlessly, the streams winding through the low hills. a land that was harsh, but still full of its own quiet beauty.
as other shore spoke, star eater moved closer, dipping her head to groom the younger wolf’s fur with slow, methodical strokes. it was a small gesture, but a deliberate one. the girl was thin, windworn, a little frayed at the edges from traveling so long on her own. star eater would not let her stay that way.
i came from another home, too, she admitted after a moment, though there was something distant in her tone. but i was never unattended.
it was the truth. she had been watched from the moment she took her first breath, guided by hands both loving and cruel, shaped by duty before she was ever given the chance to decide what she wanted for herself.
but she had made peace with it. and now, she would ensure that other shore did not have to learn her lessons in the same way.

Beautiful? Of course it had been beautiful. Home was always beautiful if it was home. And then it wasn't. That was when Other Shore forgot it could ever be described as "beautiful". Hearing Star Eater say it out loud here made her long for a single glance of her home, just so she could have a clearer image of its desolate beauty. Was your home beautiful, too? she wondered out loud, hoping to find comfort in the memories of someone else's home.

Star Eater had been similar to her in the regard that both of them had left their homes and found their way here. But perhaps it was the detachment in her eyes, or the distant tone of her words, that told her that her journey had been very, very different from Other Shore's - though that was obviously given due to Star Eater being much older and experienced. But how could it possibly be that she had never been unattended? Never been gifted a moment of lonely freedom? Isolation could be suffocating, sure - but never having room for a choice in anything must be infinitely worse.

Of course, Other Shore told herself she was not to judge Star Eater's past before she knew the full story. But she couldn't help but feel a twinge of... something odd, maybe pity, maybe sympathy, maybe curiosity. 

But then she remembered - Star Eater had mentioned her "young". Her children. A bit strange to her, given that she could always remember the face and the love of her mother, but failed to associate it with the home she left behind. Is Qeya River the home of your children? she asked. It makes for a beautiful home.

star eater’s eyes softened at the girl’s questions, though there was always something guarded behind them. her home? beautiful? she thought of the windswept crags, the stone halls, the bloodline that had ruled with steel and fire. it had been beautiful once—because it was hers. because it was all she knew.
it was, she said simply, voice low, almost wistful. once.
but her gaze shifted, turning sharper as other shore spoke of her children. instinctively, her tail curled tighter around her belly, the gentle swell of life growing within.
qeya river is our home for now, she explained. but when they are strong enough to walk, we will go. the caribou move with the seasons. we follow.
there was no choice. her children would march with them, as all saatsine children did. their legs would ache, their lungs would burn—but they would endure. it was the way of their people. it had always been the way.
my pups will learn to walk the long march. they will learn to hunt and survive. and they will be stronger for it.
her tone was firm, resolute—but her eyes lingered on other shore, curious now.
have you known such a march? she asked, though she thought she knew the answer. other shore was delicate in comparison—like a sapling bending in the breeze. yet, here she was. still standing. perhaps there was more to her than star eater had first thought.

Other Shore listened with a quiet curiosity, observing Star Eater’s eyes. Reading the woman’s gaze was difficult, of course, but, at the very least, she knew that the carefully repressed nostalgia in her irises wasn’t a figment of imagination. Both of their homes had been beautiful, it seemed. Once, never again.

Perhaps that was why the Saatsine moved with the caribou. Not just to track their primary source of prey, but also to remember the beauty of each and every home they found shelter in… so that they could leave before that beauty, that purity, was lost. So that they could look upon the times fondly and move on swiftly without reminiscing bad memories.

Qeya River seemed to be one of those homes.

Did they have to move with the caribou? Was it necessary? Could they not find a better food source so that they wouldn’t have to endure that long and painful march? Other Shore glanced at Star Eater, wondering if she was thinking the same thing, but she found that the woman showed no sign of questioning the tradition. It was not just a custom, but a foundation of the Saatsine. The never ending movement had become the basis upon which the pack lived - no, thrived - upon.

Other Shore took in Star Eater’s words. Could Other Shore herself have survived the march back when she was so young? She doubted so. But her early life and the lives of Star Eater’s young differed. Other Shore did not have a staple food source; her family did not pursue a single herd across endless forests and rivers. But with the Saatsine, they relied on the caribou, and had spent generations fostering a pack of caribou hunters - they had every reason to chase the caribou to the horizon, and they would do it without hesitation if they must. It was a painful blessing in a way.

Other Shore had never, up until this point, lived with a nomadic pack, let alone take part in one of their marches. But she supposed that her own journey across the vast, untamed lands could amount to something similar. She had no opposition to the nomadic nature of the Saatsine - she was merely curious as to their foundational values, though she embraced them with all the passion she had for traveling and expanding her view of the world. Was she strong? Considerably worthy of serving a pack? She did not think so. But she had carried herself here on her legs, and she knew that, if anything, the march would not be what would kill her.

She gazed at Star Eater’s again, just momentarily. Did you move homes when you were younger, too? She had the idea hat Star Eater had joined the Saatsine later, much like herself, but just to confirm, she asked, Were you also born with the Saatsine? She paused, then asked, What made you leave your other home? Perhaps these questions were quite… sensitive, but Star Eater’s had asked her similar questions… surely Star Eater could tolerate them? Hopefully.

star eater listened, patient and still, as other shore's curiosity spilled forth in gentle inquiry. there was no irritation, only a quiet understanding—she had once been young, asking the same of others.
her gaze softened, though it carried the weight of memory.
no, she said simply. i was not born to saatsine.
a pause, her eyes drifting to the horizon where snow met sky, as though looking beyond it to another life.
when i was a girl, i did not move. not as you know it. i visited places—on my father’s orders, on my mother’s arm—but we always returned. we belonged to one place. it held us like a cage.
the faintest trace of bitterness touched her tone before she reined it in.
i left because i had to, she said finally, voice quieter. because to stay would have been my death.
her ears twitched, and she looked back to other shore, offering a thin, almost wry smile—something fragile beneath it.
the march is hard, yes. but i chose this life. i chose to chase the caribou, to chase freedom.
a breath, visible in the cold air.
it is better to run than to rot.

Star Eater did not seem to be irritated by Other Shore's questions - rather, she responded to each of them with a delicate patience that she herself found herself jealous of. A trait a mother must have, she thought, if one were to raise pups who thrived in these places. 

Was her mother like Star Eater? Again, she was met with a hollow, empty sorrow as she realized she could not remember. Too many memories, lost as she came and went with the wind.

Other Shore found herself intrigued by Star Eater's words. A cage, she wondered out loud. What home is a cage? What cage is beautiful? But then again, her own home had been beautiful too, had it not? Until it starved her. Her father had never held her captive, and her mother had long since stopped carrying her with gentle care. 

Was that bitterness she heard in Star Eater's words? If it was, she was not surprised. But Star Eater's face flickered back into a smile, and Other Shore ceased to pry at the sour tone behind her words. 

Star Eater left her home because staying would kill her. Other Shore left her home because staying would kill her. But it was starvation that would kill Other Shore - so what was it that threatened a strong woman like Star Eater so much that it forced her to run?

Never mind that. Star Eater had chosen the way of the Saatsine, and Other Shore was beginning to embrace them as well. Best not to dig where she should not.

I have never been on a march, she finally muttered in response, after too much deliberation. But your words, I trust. There is no home that does not kill, only a home that kills slowly.

star eater listened with quiet understanding, though her eyes drifted toward the distant treeline, as if seeing something far beyond their conversation.
it was beautiful because i did not know it was a cage, she murmured. not until i was grown. not until i realized what it meant to be born to that place… to be born to them.
there was a brief flicker of pain behind her gaze, swiftly tucked away beneath the practiced mask of a woman who had learned to endure.
i was not saatsine by birth. i chose this life. because if i stayed... i would have been buried beneath the weight of duty that was not mine to carry. i left because i had to. because i wanted to live.
her voice softened, the tension in her body easing as she looked back to other shore.
the march is hard, yes. but it is life. to move is to survive. the caribou know this. and so we follow.
she leaned down, gently nosing the younger woman’s shoulder—a rare gesture of affection.
you will learn. and you will endure.

we can fade this out in your next post :)

I will learn, Other Shore echoed back quietly. I will endure. Again, but with a higher note of hope. She had come this far; the march did not seem so daunting, after all. You lived, so I must.

Perhaps Star Eater's journey to save herself was quite different from Other Shore's, after all. The woman had run so she would not be killed under the crushing weight of duty, but she herself had run so she would not be drained of life by starvation. So different. So similar.

Yet Other Shore never found it necessary to shove her pain behind layers of trained masks. She done a fulfilling amount of running and chasing nothing, and it was no longer desperation that drove her. But for Star Eater - she could not say the same. Was the woman hiding something behind her eyes? Endless layers of deeply repressed suffering? But - a blink, and it was gone again. Other Shore dared not pry. 

That cage of hers had not entirely faded from her mind. But Star Eater had learned much from it, and chosen to be with the Saatsine. If Star Eater said that the Saatsine brought her freedom, then Other Shore believed her. She could still run vast distances, but without the threat of other packs and constant starvation.

A caribou hunter, it seemed, was the fate given to her now. And she gladly accepted it. She would learn.

Other Shore laid upon the hides on the floor, savoring the moving silence. Her muscles were still heavy, though not as strained, thanks to Star Eater's herb bundles. Qeya River's distant trickle did not fully reach her ears, but it still called to her, in a tune no winds could understand. 

Soon, she would be up and running again, feeling the wind in her fur and the world at her feet. But for now, she decided, just for a little while, she would rest. 

Fade? :3