Ouroboros Spine pitâk ◺

The taste of Moonwoman’s true title felt foreign on his tongue, too casual to be spoken to a clan leader. If it weren’t for the pale wolf’s mention of Sialuk, Foxfur might have attempted to offer her insight to the title he had gifted. Instead, his mind shifted to the familiarity of the girl and their conversation.

Your daughter, the warrior repeated with a bow of his head. Sialuk is a good wolf. She is proud of the clan you have made and her role within it. It was difficult to ask for much more, especially from children. They had ways of pushing the boundaries of their cultural history, testing the nature of what it meant to be grown.

The kind words that Kukutux shared with him were made without his response. The worn figure did not believe it suitable to boast, nor to acknowledge praise of that kind. When Moonwoman asked him if he had selected his sleeping place, Foxfur frowned thoughtfully and shook his head.

I have slept somewhere new upon the borders since I arrived. The warrior had found where the clan’s markings had been the faintest and made that his station each night. It was the only way he could sleep.