Ouroboros Spine ᐊ ukkuq

could I get Ippi added back to the ranks? She fell inactive. Thank you!

 
 the pelt is heavy with meltwater, slick against her teeth as she pulls. sinew creaks. frost gathers in the pale strands of her muzzle where her breath clouds and settles, and the air smells of hide, salt, and the faint tang of smoke from her ulax nearby.

she braces her paws, narrow body tense with effort, one blue eye, one yellow, glinting sharp beneath the pale morning light. it is good work—honest work. she hums under her breath, something low and tuneless, a rhythm to the scrape of her claws and the tug of the skin across the drying frame.

wind snakes through the valley, catches the edges of the stretched caribou hide, flutters it like a flag. she steadies it with a grunt, pulling again until the fibers sing taut.

[quote="Ippiksaut" pid='665654' dateline='1761931289']

Rodyn was in the pack lands. He grew weary of leaving the edges when there was hardly any left. It saddened him greatly. And it made him wonder about many things.

Today he came a Ross a new face. But a scent he recognized from the lands. A twitch of his tail he moved forward

Hello I'm Rodyn Ardeth. Are you in need of assistance?

sorry for the wait!

the voice behind her was unfamiliar, but the cadence of his tread was not hostile. she did not turn until the last pull was set. then her eyes, one gold and one sea-glass, found him.

rodyn ardeth, she said. you are known.

her tone was unhurried, shaped by old ways and long winters. the words came as if from a place below the throat, heavy with quiet weight.

i am near done. her paws pressed the stretched skin; the faint sound of creak and release answered.

a breath passed before she went on, softer now. i am ippiksaut. once of the sea-ice. now of moonglow. she looked toward the mountains, where the wind carried the scent of stone and memory.

then, as if remembering his question, her eyes came back to him. your help would make the work lighter. but i do not ask it. only company, if you will stay.

No worries

She had two different eyes. one of the ocean he had left his heart at and one of the flowers late summer that lit up the meadows. Both appealing in her face.

A dip of his head. It is good to meet you.

he did not ask how she knew him. Most already did. He was the first hunter, had been in the Teekon for far long now. Sometimes he wondered if he should wonder right back out again. But he hadn't.

A small step forward. Then allow me to lessen some of the load. I will help you. I find solace in the fixing of pelts. Have you found your stay a welcome one this far?

the sound of his steps came gentle against the earth, and she did not lift her head until his voice filled the space between them. the hide trembled under her touch as the wind passed; her claws pressed it firm again.

you are kind to offer, she said, the words carrying a warmth that did not quite reach her guarded eyes. and you may, if it eases your spirit. the work listens well to quiet hands.

for a moment she studied him — the hunter with the scent of far lands still in his coat, the one who lingered though the wind called elsewhere.

moonglow has been kind, she went on, gaze returning to the stretched hide. its people speak softly, and the moon does not turn her face from me. a faint curve touched her mouth. that is welcome enough.

the pelt creaked as she pulled again, sinew singing between her teeth. sit, rodyn ardeth. tell me of the edges you keep. i would know the shape of the world beyond the light.

Rodyn was not a loud wolf. He existed in the in-between. Spaces where only the humble reside. He was not boastful or loud. Had not ever fought for anything but the land he loved and the wolves he cared for. But he hunted for them all. He used his skills and his gifts to feed as many as he could. And he never asked for anything. Even the women he had loved. The one that had left him too early, and the other Embers of something. Who found whatever he offered wanting and chose him not. He cared for them still and he always stepped aside if he must.

He pulled a fur she was not working on towards himself. He worked in quiet tandem. He took the briefest of moments to study how she moved and the rhythm she held and he mimicked it. This way they were in sync and not working against each other. So, conversation could flow easier and work done at same pace. So, none moved forward or got left behind.

A soft blink. That is a heavy question with many answers.

A soft tilt of his head as he thought of an answer. My sharpest edge you could say is grief. I loved the sun and she loved me. And then the moon and the sea took her from me. But.

A small smile as he worked. Paws shifting the fur. Teeth working. Yellow eyes gentle, but heavy. She gave me two gifts before she left. Though they left soon after, my sons. I do not know they live or die.

Stocky shoulders rounded from years or work and hunting, began to loosen as he continued. I thought I could start to love again and both times. I was left for someone with something I didn't have I suppose. But i think of them fondly still. Though one, the water and the moon also took her and her beloved. The other disappeared into darkness. And we have not found her yet. But perhaps I am the darkness adn I just do not realize this.

ippiksaut worked beside him, her movements precise and unhurried, the rhythm of her scraping slow as breath through winter grass. she did not look at him at first; only listened, letting his story settle like silt in still water.

when he spoke of grief, of sons gone to the world’s hungers, of women who slipped from his life like tide withdrawing from stone, her ears angled toward him at last. not pity— she had no taste for that— but recognition. the kind that comes from carrying her own losses in the quiet muscle of the heart.

she pressed her paw along the hide’s edge, smoothing a stubborn wrinkle, then finally turned her mismatched gaze upon him. one eye the color of deep ice, the other warm as late-summer honey.

darkness does not gather where tenderness walks, she said, voice low and steady. you speak of your dead with love. that is not a shadow’s tongue.

another pull of the hide. the fibers sang beneath them.

the moon takes many things, she went on, softer now. she took from me too. and still i learned— loss is not wicked. only heavy.

her tail brushed once across the earth, a small gesture of assurance.

you are not the darkness, rodyn ardeth. her gaze lingered, unwavering. darkness leaves nothing growing behind it. and you… she nodded toward the work they shared, toward the glen beyond, toward the life he tended without fanfare. you feed whole villages.

This she wolf was like him in ways. Quiet and unassuming she worked as he did, with humility and for others. Not herself. It was nice to know he was not all alone.

Rodyn himself did not like pity. Pity was a harsh emotion. One that often made the recipient of feel worse than they already had. It made you feel small. And Rodyn had no time for this.

A pause of his work, paws stilling as she turned her gaze to him. He listened with attention and care to her words. It was best to give your all to someone that spoke with you. Especially when they spoke with care.

It is indeed heavy. One of the heaviest things to bear. He knew it. Felt it. It drew over him like a blanket. No matter how much time passed. No matter how much he moved forward. It was always there, the love he hadn't been able to give. Holding itself around him like a fur that refused to give up it's sinew.

A soft laugh, teary and yet full. Thank you. And you take care of them it seems. This is a good quality and I commend you for it.

he could not allow her to compliment without giving one in kind. It was clear she cared for those around her. Even him a wolf she didn't have too, and didn't even know.

when rodyn’s voice broke the stillness, she lifted her head. the warmth in his words — shy, earnest, without the clumsy reach of flattery— touched something old and tender beneath her ribs. a small smile rose to her mouth, unforced, soft as the first thaw.

you bear it with grace, she said gently, her mismatched eyes lingering on his. grief chooses the strong, rodyn ardeth. it does not settle in the hearts that cannot hold it.

she pressed her paw against the hide, smoothing an edge before continuing.

you walk forward. you feed others. you leave light in the places you pass. the smile deepened, quiet as it was. the world is not so generous with such men.

she let her gaze drift to the lake, watching the reflection of pale sky ripple.

as for me, she murmured, i do what the moon asks. i tend, i mend, i listen. it is not noble. only necessary.

then her eyes returned to him, brighter now— something warm blooming there she did not try to hide.

but if my hands have eased your burden even a breath, she said, voice softer still, then i am glad.

a pause, filled only by wind and water.

you are… good company, ippiksaut added, almost shy in her own way. rare company.

Rodyn did not seek to flatter those that he spoke too. It was not something he liked to give. Not because they did not deserve it. But because flattery was the words of weak men. And he preferred the truth, honesty of a compliment freely given without the heaviness of expecting something in return. Because all gifts should be freely given, even kind words.

The words she whispered into existence. They burned and they hurt. But they were true. As honesty often was. And Rodyn would much rather have an ugly truth than a pretty lie. He would not wrap his own words up in cruelty and malice dripping from serpents tongue with arsenic and lace. No. Genuity was what he preferred. And what he gave. And what he expected to be given back.

Rodyn tilted his head, ears forward. Well I figure it would be a disservice to my mother. She always told me to be kind. And she is one wolf I would prefer not to disappoint. Even if she can no longer see me. I think the world has given me many little blessings, despite the hardship I have also endured. I am a good hunter. The universe has given me that. And it allowed me to feel the all consuming love of another.

He made a soft hmm. It would be a disservice to her memory and other's besides were i not to be grateful for both the good and the bad.

He listened closely. Eyes following hers to the lake. Water both comforting and horrifying in equal measures. Sometimes the moon asks a lot of us.

He met her gaze with a steady look of his own. Warmth of hearth and home always blazing there. For he was a humble man and home was where his heart was.


He returned her shy smile with one of his own. Thank you. You are as well, Ippiksaut once of the Sea-Ice.

ippiksaut smoothed the last edge of the pelt beneath her paw, the lavender scent rising each time her claws brushed the grain. rodyn’s words settled gently between them— steady, honest, the kind that never tried to impress. she found she liked that. it made her shoulders ease.

she shifted the pelt so he could see it clearly, tilting it toward the light that skimmed the lake’s surface.

rodyn, she said quietly, tell me true — do you think this will serve as a good gift for raindrop?

her mismatched eyes flicked from the hide to his face, intent, seeking his judgment without hesitation.

she is close to her birthing day. i want something that will comfort her. keep the cold from her bones. i trust your eye before my own.

another small smile touched her mouth, brief but warm.

you know the worth of a good pelt. and… your hands have worked beside mine. so tell me— is it good enough, or must i choose a finer one?

Rodyn found the scent of lavender calming. He felt his muscles unwravel and there was a peaceful air to him beyond what was usual. When she turned the pelt towards him, he stepped back to get a closer look. Yellow gaze taking it in.

He saw the nicely rounded edges the softness of the pelt. The scent that wafted from it. This was a good gift.

I do. It is soft enough for babies that are too little to know anything but, and it is warm enough for little bodies that haven't much fur. And the scent will relax both mother and babies. Ease them into sleep and relaxation more easily. Even may make it easier for Raindrop to bear her children.


He looked at it and spoke softly. I think it is very good gift, but if you would like another to prepare. I have a fox fur, white from the mountains in my den. I will give it to you gladly. But you needn't worry. Your skill is great and your gift is fit for queens. And despite who I am. I can say that with purpose I met a queen once.

ippiksaut listened with quiet attention, watching the way his gaze moved over the hide— not as a hunter judging a prize, but as a father might look upon something meant for his own. the way his shoulders eased under the lavender warmed her deeply.

when he finished, her smile came soft and unguarded, maternal in its shape.

thank you, rodyn, she said, voice low, touched with pride. your eye is honest. it means much to hear that it will comfort raindrop and her kin.

she brushed the pelt once more, smoothing it with a tenderness that showed how much she wished to give the young mother something worthy.

his offer of the white fox fur drew her gaze back to him, surprised but warmed.

that is generous...! she murmured. more than i would ever ask of you.

a breath, soft as the fur they spoke of. 

if you truly wish to donate it, i would be honored to prepare it for raindrop’s nest. she deserves such care.

then, a small glint of amusement in her mismatched eyes.

and i will remember your words, rodyn ardeth. a queen’s judge is no small thing.

Fun fact if Rodyn ever marries again, he has a ton of gifts from the queen of Akashingo to give to his future bride. heh

Rodyn smiled. I have been a trader for a long time. I am glad that in my travels I have developed a sense of something that can help others. And he was. Rodyn was on the road a lot. he had traveled and hunted and traded for years now. He had gotten an almost impossible bride price. And had been willing to do it again. If he could use his gifts to help someone else, well that was all that he cared about.


Rodyn shrugged. I have no use of it. And there is no reason it should remain in my den when it can be used for someone to wrap a baby in. I also have elk and deer hide if the occasion calls for it. But white fox will be softer, and it's just pretty.

He chuckled. I will gladly give it to you. And i have to admit, royalty is strange. I won't lie. They have very pretty things. But they are strange at times. Some things i saw no reason for. But they were fair, and the Queen was kind.

rodyn and his hoarding

ippiksaut paused in her mixing, the smooth stone held still beneath her paw as his words settled over her. queens. the notion tugged at her curiosity like a loose thread.

royalty, she echoed softly, mismatched eyes lifting toward him. i have never seen such a thing with my own eyes. in the seaice villages, we have leaders… mothers… hunters. but crowns and courts? her head tilted slightly. that is new to me.

she dipped her paw once more into the salve, but her gaze stayed fixed on him, intent.

tell me of them, rodyn. these queens. a faint, almost playful pinch touched her voice. what makes a wolf a queen? is it birth? is it deeds?

her mouth curved into a small, fascinated smile.

or is it simply the way others look at her?

she brushed a streak of salve into the bowl, thoughtful. where i come from, a woman who can guide her people is already something like a queen. but you speak of ones with pretty things and strange customs.

another gentle look.

i would hear more. you have walked farther than i ever have… your stories stretch beyond the snow.