Moonspear And the chickens how they rattle chicken chains

men. it was a good thing that the salt-gods had handed women the secret medicines and how they were prepared. amusement wished to blossom breathy and wide on her lips, but she hid it beneath a submissive flick of her eyes to the water once more. "it is not for everyone. we have our strengths and the things that cause weakness. you are a hunter. warrior in moonspear. i am healer and mother."

both were roles of great importance upon their mountain. it was why kukutux believed in the delineation of tasks by sex: men were meant for one thing, and women another. it was her own which brought forth the children to continue a pack. it was bronco's who laid boundaries of protection so those babes might grow strong.

his reaction had brightened her countenance; kukutux raised her verdant eyes to his own, remembering. "at least it is not the birth of children," she said with a faux seriousness, before grinning and raising upon her paws. "meerkat brought two old skins from my den to your own," she said gently. "i would like to give you more before winter comes. if you bring the fur of what you have killed to me, i will make sleeping-place pelts for you and for your sister that will last in the snow."