Ouroboros Spine x. darkness falling,

At his offer, the dove gave a small shake of her shoulders and the thick warmth of the pelts fell away -- striking the earth with soft thuds. She offered him a shy smile in return then, dipping her fallow crown in greeting. "Hi," the herdstalker lilted in wisping tones, tail wagging gently where it hung low at her hocks. "I have been. And I hope the spirits have smiled upon you, as well," the artisan dipped her head in a formal gesture, albeit one tinted by undertones of diffidence, as the old saying fell from her lips of its own accord -- as rehearsed as the act of pulling air into her lungs. With a blink, she buried again the girl who had been  Aiwë.

"It looks lovely," the fawn agouti chirped softly as she glanced to his home with a kind smile -- not bothered by its spartan state or the moss. Even if Kukutux's match for them worked out in the end, she did not expect the spiritbear to provide her with a perfect home. Rather, she looked forward to helping him build it. "I brought pelts for you," she mentioned then, gesturing with a small sweep of her tawny muzzle to the pile of cured pelts. Some of her larger pieces, more suitable for lining a den. 

"The wolverine is not so nice," she admitted as she bent to nose at the worn, frayed fur along its edges -- nose wrinkling at the faint odor of rot that she had been unable to wash out of the fur. "I scavenged it off a carcass rather than killing it fresh but wolverine fur is nice, regardless. It will not freeze or crust with frost even in the harshest winter," the mouse explained.