Nimbus Summit You will be less than a grain of salt but more than an ounce of gold

Imaq rasped her tongue along Siku's crown, scrunching her nose at him playfully when his own quirked in protest. The mother took a moment to watch Rye with their son, a loving smile crossing her splotchy lips to observe them together -- thanking the inua silently that the boy seemed to be recovering slowly now that they were home, that he'd begun to accept his father's closeness and affection once more. For a time, she'd been awfully worried that he might never trust anyone again aside from herself. 

After a moment, she took to butchering the larger piece of game, for her and Rye to eat. She stopped only when he turned to her with a plea to fill her own stomach first. The medicine woman gave the woodlander an exasperated but amused look -- struggling to refrain from rolling her eyes teasingly as she licked the blood from her chops. Seelie did as he asked, but only after dividing the meat into two small piles, nudging one aside to reserve for her husband. Try as he might to persuade her, Imaq would not eat this portion. Instead she tucked into the other, knowing Rye needed sustenance after a day of hunting just as much as she -- if not more. 

After a moment, she lifted her speckled crown of cream and honey -- cracked gaze of seaglass flickering between her husband and son. "Happen?" the she-dog murmured questioningly, worriedly, as she gestured to the wound upon the Hotah's neck.