Moonspear nuyuiksuk ⚬

jarilo did not understand. kukutux saw that plainly writ upon his dark features. but like others before, he sought to comprehend. this alone kept her from seeking slumber: the novelty of having an individual press answers she had not spoken in many cyclings of the moon.

he drew closer, partially obscured the star-gleaming with his body. half-eclipsed by his shadow, kukutux relaxed, sinking down upon the pile of furs. the pelts seemed softer than they had before; they rose up around her flanks and belly, provoking a small sense of safety.

crossing her forelegs over one another, the duck kept herself deferential but tangibly less tense. he had dispelled it with his inquiring tone, his figure. 

in truth, kukutux did not know how to explain herself to jarilo. the spring-jade glow of his eyes brought words leaping to her tongue, though the little duck had no way of knowing she would be heard properly.

but here he was, trying; here he was, a strange man who had taken pity upon a lonely woman and found her shelter.

pensive, apprehension wilted the girl's ears against her delicate skull. many moon-turnings since a man had occupied her sinigivik. kukutux colored, dipped her muzzle lower.

but jarilo was watching her, jaws parting to ask after the abilities she had borne here. kukutux paused, then passed a small paw over the edge of the hareskin beneath her.

"i know how to dry skins, so they will be easier to keep. i know plants. i have helped to bring cubs into the world." she spoke earnestly, directly; he was a man, and she would be respectful, but jarilo had silently awarded kukutux a forum in which she might be free.

"i can preserve meat, and catch birds, and hunt the seals in the tagiuk," the failed bride finished in a voice that  had descended to a whisper. she had not meant to speak so much.

ears lifted; she glanced into jarilo's face once more, steadying herself against the logical scrutiny of his gaze. "i know why i am here. i am a ... a ... woman whose husband has died. uilgagnaak," she mumbled in misery, to have slipped from the common speech so many times during this conversation.

"yes. i am tired," kukutux admitted wanly after the space of several moments. "i think that your sister wanted to honor me by accepting my ... custom. but she was clear this was not a firm arrangement, whatever happened." to have her future still uncertain; a sigh and the snowbloom was silent, embittered, embattled.