Moonstone Quarry kajurujuk ≉

they were speaking of mothers now, and kukutux felt the cords of her heart-place tangle in a painful briared clutch. it was the word of the woman who had passed on which filled her thoughts in that remembered voice. very often the duck considered it was the last living vestige of her anaa which remained.

merrit's ways did not seem so different from her own. she brought to imagination these plinths the man described, for mother's mate. and though she did not know the word of patriarch or matriarch, kukutux felt as though she gleaned their meaning from the reverence in her companion's voice. 

"we all do some things without making a thought first. it is our way. but you have set your path up a mountain, merrit." how did he hope to gather souls? the duck did not take him to be a spirit-talker, but —

it was only his youth. he wore power in all lines of him, a rockbear with eyes that saw many things.

"you have the wish to make a home for them?"

disjointed;

"my mother had the liking of the soft grass that grows beside the sea. in the sand. we had the saying that eagles spoke to her." kukutux drew a breath through her nostrils, steadying herself. "bring things to your holy place that speak to you with your mother's voice."