Silverlight Terrace walkin' after midnight

hydra had come into season, and the perfumes that wreathed powerfully through moonspear set the little duck on edge. over twenty-four moons she had now; this was the number that her mother had said marked the beginning of the woman's ability to bear children at her husband's hearth.

despite the fact that kukutux had not wished to leave the comfort and protection of the vital mountain again till the spring melt, hydra's silent clarion call had sent her own skin into an uncomfortable flush that answered the great ruler in a different way.

the girl traveled down the slopes and out across an expanse of shale that was both sharp and cold beneath her small paws. over her slim shoulders she had tucked a wide scrap of beaver-skin, water-resistant should she have need of it. hydra would only give a true permission once she had procured a husband. the thought provoked a frown, and kukutux was pleased to have the hungering distraction of the pregnant doe cross her senses.

a man, running in a heavy step. the duck paused to watch him, ears quavering warily.