Ouroboros Spine spring (wild horseradish jam)

She had named the bird.

It came easily to her, once she knew it would survive, once it could rest comfortably upon her shoulders and come to know her name, croak when she entered where she rested.

She named him Akaagigan. For he was beyond, her representation of what lay outside Moonglow. Curiosity itched at her insides every time her companion croaked, every time she caught the herbal scent from his body. It faded as he healed, as the fox skin cured, her fox skin.

She’d killed that fox. Had sat stained with its blood while she worked to save a live. When she had taken another.

Old doe had gone silent. It was just Vairë now. Perhaps it had always been just Vairë. Perhaps Old Doe was just something children imagined, a facsimile of the real world.

She took Akaagigan to fly sometimes. It’s what she was doing now, her eyes distant as she watched the crow circle her head. He was a smart fellow. And she was almost a yearling. Part of her wanted to capitalize on that, go hunt the stars and chase the sun across the sky until her itching paws were satisfied. A bigger part lay here, with her family.

Vairë sighed out a breath.