Moonspear And the chickens how they rattle chicken chains

kukutux burned beneath her sedately groomed pelt. bronco was far too old to make such overtures, and toward the wife of a leader no less. it was for his improper ways she felt a figment of shame, but there was also a great amusement. to be so unknowing of these taboos. to speak so directly. and something else besides, to be the measure of what he meant, with her 'pretty eyes' inferred to be brighter than starlight.

once this young siksuruk put focus upon showing himself before the eyes of women who shared his age, one would swiftly choose him. of this kukutux was now certain. there was no mother's choice necessary here. that was for the reticent new hunter or for the care needed to choose the right wolf for an alliance between two clans. and she was not sure bronco had come to moonspear for such. his then, an easier life, for he needed only to speak as he had spoken to her.

"i thank you for that," the duck chose to say, ears sweeping forward as she cast bronco a bemused, contemplative look that lingered a moment longer than all her others had rested; jadestone filled now with something he must discern for himself. they drew close to his hearthstone; she scented the rainwet air. "may i come to check upon you, in the day to come?"