Moonspear back to the forward command center

her gaze trained upon hydra; she meant to be respectful, but in her observations she saw a silken gentility. an elegance, cultivated through long leadership and no doubt breeding. hydra's powerful demeanor was alluring, a dizzying display of easy might to which kukutux might never aspire.

she was too soft for such things, too retiring. too shy. that last one, now, burbling to a blush upon her cheek as the stormcloud asked after her world.

hydra and agana were in many ways alike, and for a breathless moment, kukutux struggled with the sudden strike of pain over remembering her companion's golden eyes.

"i was a bride once before. i liked a man. he liked me. he came one day to ask my father what he could bring for me. my father told him to bring pelts, bones, meat. he brought it as he hunted, and when it was all delivered, i went with him to his dwelling and became his wife."

a breath; a blinking. "i knew him. but a woman does not always know who her husband might be. she is allowed to reject him if she wishes," kukutux added, remembering hydra's earlier words upon choice.

"now my bride-price is my skills. and now, i can give him children." and you, the spirit whispered warmly, for any cubs born to the hearth of kukutux' husband would also belong to moonspear. 

the talk of andraste silenced her, and she traveled in quietude, thinking upon all the leader had said. she knew not diaspora, or these others of whom hydra spoke, but it seemed that her trade had been for nothing, if it did not grant the forgiveness that the fairy-queen had sought.

"when the sun returns, i shall show you how to dry meat, if you would like," she offered, a bit bashfully as jadeglow gaze traveled once more to hydra's countenance, not so forbidding as kukutux had first believed.