Ouroboros Spine He's heading out the door

in her nostrils she still held his scent — even as adrastus sent his words carefully to her ears, she wanted the shadowhunter, desired him with a fierceness that even she could not understand. it was not love. it was something dark-red and sibilant, filling her waking hours with a new and guilty longing. 

she should put him away at once. she should make adrastus firsthunter. but she was swallowed by a thousand things, all of them mired in the pierce of desire. and so kukutux listened with heavy heart and judgement toward herself; oh, she must go to him, demand that he take from his mouth this talk of possession. but she had always known it, she had always known that raimo presented much of himself openly. she had not come together to dance change into him, she had —

"it is true. i made the words that perhaps he should be the one to be near when the time comes." her mouth tightened. "but i told him i was not ready for another husband. firsthunter is the right choice for a wisewoman. it binds all more tightly. the children have his status, which cannot be removed from them."

she felt her tongue flattening into a woman's knife. "because i do not want a husband i do not ask a bride price. he spoke to me of sialuk also. she would not have him. nor would i allow it." not after he knew the duck as he had. at last kukutux felt her countenance close; she drew steel into her back and inhaled, refusing to let tears so much as well behind her distant greenrock stare. "i have taken him to my sleeping-place. that is why he boasts. but i told him i would make no decision on who my choice would be. not now. i am not healed," and now she had set herself back through a series of poor choices. "and it is not time to choose."

and yet all she could think upon now was how alive, at last, she had felt, how vital, how living.

why does adrastus ask after a bride-price? how does he know what this thing is?

she looked firmly at the snow-spear, searching his earnest face for any sign of malice, the bare question in her eyes.