Silvertip Mountain calling

Aguta approached. She sensed the stiffness there—she was not at all oblivious to things that were physical—and her ears swiveled atop her head. She had not sought her out in the night, or even too early, because she had not wanted to disturb her then; but now it was an adequate time, and at this point, Aguta was not her own to lord over. She was a leader, yes, but Aguta could have shifted in her absence. Tonravik would be disappointed—more in herself than Aguta—but receptive to that; Aguta had been loyal, honest. Tonravik had been, too, but not so very open.

I went to find the Issumatar, she began. Typically, it was where she would end. She was not a woman with a broad vocabulary, or with very much eloquence. Being raised by two who seldom spoke influenced that. All the same, they were no less impressive for it; Tonravik, despite her struggle to find words, remained strong in her visage. After repressing her own dominant gene for so long, and continuing to do so here, her self-doubt had once consumed her. I should have let you know. I did not think. She wanted to be the best she could be for them when the time came. Tonravik did not want to fail.

I was able to observe for only a short time, she had known she had needed to go back, and her mother had physically forced her from the lands in the paranoia that Tonravik might try to take it all. Truth be told, her ambitions were ever-rising. But Tonravik did understand that above all, her mother was matriarch. She respected—and feared—Siku much too much to ever act on that impulse. To lead hundreds was something she was not yet ready for regardless; she would begin with Tartok, here. But I am ready. I am not afraid. The Issumatar thinks of you. She had spoken very briefly of Aguta, to be sure that she was well; it was more than she would have done of anyone else, having all the regard in the world for each of them, but remembering her favored companions the most.

I was thoughtless. But know that I never make the same mistake twice. Tonravik stood there, wondering if Aguta would confess to her then of her own beginning. Although she ached to embrace Aguta as only Tartok could embrace one another, she did not desire to stress the woman out, to push Aguta away by her own compulsions again.