Silvertip Mountain pikpaksriruk ∅

kukutux had not known, she had only believed at the sight of wraen's face that hour in moonspear that he had chosen this woman above all. he had given no indication to the contrary; 

she shut herself against the yearning memory of what she had wished so fiercely to believe was held within his eyes —

and swung the slim line of her muzzle back toward wraen. he had chosen a companion over moonspear? he had been harsh to her for the sake of a friend? a woman with selfsame warmth and beckoning body the duck could abide, but now she thought back to each transgression arcturus had committed against her, and how it had been truly, for nothing.

"he told me nothing." she did not care if wraen had no belief in her words. "you did, in this moment of time." nothing, not the pleasure of a feminine figure; abandoned leadership for a promise; broken himself from moonspear for nothing. and now hope, welling with a sickening lurch into her throat, that one day she would wake and he would be upon the foothills. 

a barren sparkle of pity as her eyes searched that of wraen, driven out in the next moment by the stirring of grief and of regret in her chest.

a lash of her palefurred tail; kukutux rolled her shoulders, inhaled the frostbitten air. "when you tell my brother, do not forget to say to him that his sister is whore. his ears will want to hear it." another step back; the duck yielded ground, and turned, setting a sharp pace for herself back over the edge of the small mountain and toward the glacier that lay beyond.