Shadewood ulu ⚯

the sun had gone to its sleeping place, and kukutux, still tired from her journey with cry, had fallen into a doze within the shadows of her den. it was not until cry's deeper tones sounded that she was roused. blinking at his inquiry, kukutux glanced at the spare inches of space left within the den. "there is not room," she called to him. "wait — i will come out."

almost beneath his muzzle did the girl slip, moving carefully to the flat rock where the meat of the fish and the bird dried in the cold air. even if it froze, it would keep. she searched for a suitable surface but found only a ragged piece of bark. deciding that in the morning she would search for more fitting pieces of wood, the girl drew a generous offering of meat onto the makeshift plate and nudged it along the ground in cry's direction. perhaps he had already eaten, but he had come to her home. it would be inhospitable not to serve a guest.

her heart beat like a drum as she worked; afraid he would hear it, the girl settled opposite him, the flat stone between them. head down in deference, kukutux waited for him to eat. then he would tell her why he had come.

she hoped it was to accept the offer of herself as bride.