Moonsong Glacier Dreams of what I once claimed to know.

kukutux bent over him again,

her brother

seeking to clean red from his mouth, cleaning his lacerations, wincing with a blink to see how revui seemed made of twisted scars. she listened to him breathe; her mind repeated all of wraen's words inside her head, mingled with the words of what she knew now to be a curse.

men were shamans for a reason. no woman could be chosen for it; no foolish, stupid, crying woman. it was not their lot, and yet she had taken it to herself and —

with keres departed, kukutux pressed her crown against his hard shoulder, silent hot tears falling from alabaster jawline into his flint-made pelt.

i plead for his life. again. but this time it was the spirits she begged, not dirge. not hydra. only the faces of the ones gone to the dancing lights.