Ouroboros Spine Behind every tree is a cutting machine

Her voice sounded like the wind, and the way it shook the leaves of the quaking aspen. He couldn't make out what she said, but he was struck with the impression that he had indeed done some reverent thing. She mentioned medicines and he nodded softly. He had tended to his wounds but only in the way that a soldier knew- get them clean and keep them clean. He did not know poultices or medicines, but had been taught to be content healing as nature intended when there were no skilled medics available. But she didn't move to retrieve anything, or draw closer to inspect his wounds. She remained as she was.

The lynx, it seemed, was of special value to her, which made something sink in his chest. The time he had spent on the mountain had allowed him to consider her, and he had come to a realization that perhaps she might not have expected. Now, though, he was given the feeling that his thoughts might not come as such a blow to her. 

For while she claimed to be in awe of the creature that was bound to her soul, she had not smiled to see it. She had not shown relief or joy when she saw him return. And while she did indeed eye the prize he had caught with reverent adoration, none of those emotions were present in her face when she addressed him. He didn't feel as though she saw him at all; and that was all he'd needed to see. 

"I have proven myself fit to be Sivullik, yes?" He asked. "And yet you seem...This isn't the right word, but it feels close enough. Disappointed." He said softly. He felt certain that while she wanted to see someone bring her this as a sign that they were chosen to be Sivullik, he got the distinct impression that there was someone else who she wished had done the task. And he couldn't fight with that. He took a step closer to her, wishing he could reach out and brush her cheek with his muzzle- and yet he did not. If she wanted to come to him for reassurance, she could- though he didn't expect her to. "Despite the fact that the mountain and this lynx have chosen me, you have not; you have already given yourself to another." He said. "Can we exist in a world, where we can both have what we want?" He asked her, then. He wanted to be Sivalluk. She, he thought, wanted Raimo. Could there be balance, still, if the Sivullik remained single, while his wisewoman danced with another?