Porcupine Ridge provisions

It was not an individual decision but rather attention to an evident need that saw the Nessaquati woman end shoulder to shoulder stride with her kinsman. Between the wet breaths that writhed in his chest and the many other ways that the mass on his neck slowed him -there was no need for added comment as to their new margins. Instead, the convenient silence between them was maintained as he headed them from the woods and out towards more adventurous ground. Initially, preoccupied with the newness of second position, it wasn't until several miles had been taken that Khetiquet saw the difference for what it was. Exchanging thought between the veteran and the task that he had set them on, she was challenged to remain obeisant. The intent of their venture had been suited to circumstance several times before but this elective wrong turn did not sit well with the Nessaquati woman at all.

However, rather than further drain him with the stress of posting a defense -Khetiquet stuck to the smooth and almost indifferent attitude that had seen her satiated in an existence which had become increasingly precarious. Following her elder without word until he mentioned rest, it was only then that she allowed a small sound of un-avenged frustration to break her. Yet, the kinsman was listening -to this and other subtle signs- all of which amassed caused him to rise and leave as soon as his companion was out of consciousness.

Some time later Khetiquet awoke to the realization with a sober heart. It had been on the brink of every stifled conversation for weeks now -this regrettable finale to their tribe. And so, she did not dissolve into hysteria but rather the motions of provision. Turning her mouth towards the bight of midday she carried a traditional verse of mourning for the walking dead. Unbothered when the male did not rise to the occasion of joining his final rite she instead allowed the moment to pass with restrained emotions. Picking a direction on whim thereafter, she went towards it and whatever it fated with concession.

Shades of twilight blushed the vault by the time that the female was where she thought she ought to be. Well off from the actual barrier -as she need not straddle it to understand and value its intent- her brooding eyes pierced the gathering haze of late evening. Of course she worried about the likeness of the wolves beneath the banner that flooded her senses but with nothing left between herself and obscurity she dared not hesitate. With more zealous sounds than those made for the lost male, the last of the Nessaquati revealed herself to the wolves of Porcupine Ridge.