Ouroboros Spine [m] xxxxvi. from the perfect start

set for 06/10/2021. @Adrastus I’m just gonna keep things vague regarding their marriage for now since I’m not sure exactly which one would have come first. (Them becoming official mates or them conceiving their kids lol.) 

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When brother sun rose, bringing with him clinging humidity as he raked the golden fingers of his rays across the earth and stole the dew from the grass, he would be greeted by Lótë where she worshipped him within the refuge of her hidden glen high in the mountains. She had stolen away to her secret place some nights before, not out of any intention to hide from the moonwife she had come to call sister or the man who would be her husband. Rather, in the past week she had begun to feel claustrophobic within the walls of the Spine where usually she felt safe, secluded. Even amongst the elevated terraces of the upper ring where it felt one could touch the sky, the morning dove had felt her skin prickle and tighten around her bones — wondering if this was how the snakes felt when they shed their molting skins. 

The cloudberry woman took deep, measured breaths from her place in the heart of the tiny hollow — willing the warmth of brother sun on her face and the sweet melody of the summer morning awakening around to clear the static from her mind. But the herbologist could only fight the urge to fidget and chew at the inside of her cheek, her thoughts whirling in a chaotic loop, for so long before at last her peridots opened and she heaved a sigh. The two-year rose to her feet and gave a shake of her dew-dampened pelt, not unlike a bird ruffling its feathers after a rainstorm, as if she could shake off the rising agitation.

Lótë returned to the sloped, stargazing stone she’d slept atop for the past two nights and retrieved the ptarmigan skin she’d delicately skinned from her last hunt from its base. Kukutux’s offer lingered heavy in her thoughts, taking root in her heart as it seized with a terrible thought that she was simply too young and her season would not come until the following spring. The deerskin agouti bit back the bitter fear as she gingerly collected the thin skin in her jaws, settling herself alongside the stone which was still cool from the night. 

If she and Adrastus did have children this year, it was better to be prepared, she reminded herself as she began to pluck the feathers and down from the birdskin with her teeth. The feathers might line their den and the skin, though thin, would make a soft hide once she was done with it — perfect bedding for a whelping den. Yet, even this important task failed to soothe her frayed nerves and eventually Aiwë set the project aside before springing to her feet again. 

Restlessly, the Epsilon began to pace — tamping down the urge to shudder or shiver every few seconds with some repressed need that she couldn’t begin to comprehend. 

Finally, she stilled in the middle of the clearing, trembling with an onslaught of emotion — longing, anxiety, irritation, fear, confusion — and her eyes shining with stubbornly  repressed tears at the helplessness her body was inspiring with such feelings.

What’s wrong with me?