Bearclaw Valley Ghosts of our past

A change came over Nanook while Desna explained herself. The lines of her face eased and fell to a weightier look, and her shoulders slumped with gravity. Her body felt strange, like she imagined the thunderheads felt before they sparked the sky with daggers of light, and there was a gnaw like the churning of hunger in the crook of her chest. She felt her stomach twist in knots. Nanook didn't know what she was feeling, but she felt it strong, sparked in part by Desna's words, but more by the wolf she showed herself to be in the midst of this all. Kind. Gentle. Sister.

Nanook whined, and her ears fell back.

Why had she left her?

But her thoughts shifted when a change came over Desna, a faint reflection of the grief Nanook felt building within, and she stiffened again, her brief lapse replaced by the composure she always carried, saved for the knit of concern that creased her brows.

She leaned forward, and nosed her sister's chest with a soft whine. Accustomed to silence, she asked her question with a glance toward Desna's face, copper eyes lit with tight confusion, and pain. You're hurt. Nanook didn't even think Desna might not understand. Her words had meant little in the world beyond the Wilds, and motion came more naturally than speech.