Ouroboros Spine it's not as if we cry a river, call it rain

Kigipigak did not need the aid of Kukutux to walk now. They did not go as far as last time, which helped. His body had mended and he had survived his attack only by the grace of his kin. He was thankful to know her, and wished he could repay the debt he most certainly owed; some of that desire stemmed from apprehension over the next stage of his life and the fear of leaving home again, to become a husband. It was not what Kigipigak had in mind when he saw Sakhmet — but he could not speak of this either, so bashful with his uncertainty.

When he saw the warm red-black shining off of her thin silhouette, his head emptied. He was led moreso by his heart to where she waited. His scars had changed with his bathing and now sat exposed as dark flesh. The effect would no doubt fade in time but for now he looked hardened by battle, not freshly mended. There was a slight browning of his limbs that washing could not cure as a side-effect of Kukutux' brew. All in all, he looked hale, broad-shouldered and strong, like before the cat had come for him.

There was the urge within Kigipigak to speak as he came to greet Sakhmet. As his mouth opened there came the farewell-call of Kukutux, and so he paused and found himself smiling, amused by the names she has given them.

Lets go home. Kigipigak wished aloud, turning his full attention to Sakhmet in the hopes he might catch an elusive smile.