Nimbus Summit I will give you all that I have and then some

"Imaq - I love you," the dog returned in a soft stammer, not always remembering the way pronouns were used. Her aquamarines practically glimmered with warmth as she burrowed against Rye's ivory chest -- a convenient position now that she'd toppled him over. There was still a ghost of a smile dancing on the medicine woman's lips when the couple untangled from each other and found their places beside each other once more like magnets moving in tandem. 

But it died like the flame of a candle snuffed betwixt two fingers at what her husband asked. Quickly, the shepherd glanced back herself to assure that Siku wasn't within hearing range. With a heavy swallow, Imaq turned back to face the rain -- as if it could wash away everything the merle didn't want to remember. It was easier to admit when she didn't look at Rye. He wouldn't take it well, even if the wren-feather woman knew it wasn't his fault. 

"Imaq go. Take Siku after..." she trailed off, knowing well that the oakwood agouti knew what she spoke of. Surely her husband remembered the drama of Makatza attacking their son and how Imaq had thought the Glacier unsafe. Their trip was only supposed to be a hunting excursion, a means of teaching Sikuliak how to use his damaged leg without the embarrassment of the pack looking on while he fumbled with his new disability. And a way to keep him safe until some conclusion could be met by those in authority regarding the incident. 

"Inua much kongak," Imaq frowned, an exaggerated expression, and lowered her brows almost menacingly in demonstration to relay the meaning of the word. She did not know it in Rye's language. "Snow. Much snow. Imaq and Siku hide. No Glacier. No Glacier anywhere." The wolfdog glanced to her nulettukutik to make sure he was following along with the choppy tale. 

"Imaq look. Look for Glacier. Look for Rye." Her floppy, freckled ears fell limply against her skull and her gaze drifted down to her paws -- unable to stop the way her heart plummeted into her stomach at the memory. After a moment, she picked up the thread again. 

"Inua not want Imaq lost. Totem like home." This was harder to explain. She could not put into words the taboos and unspoken laws of her people, not yet. The totem spirits of all tribes and their people did not like to go homeless -- accidents and tragedies were more likely to happen when an individual wandered and denied their spirit a hearth to reside within. "Much angry more. Issutanguak -- boom!" Here, the wife practically exploded with the word, lifting her forepaws up for emphasis and slamming them against the earth in a move that vibrated up through her bones -- much as the real mountainslide had. 

"Imaq - I no move. Niuk," she gestured with a jerk of her muzzle to the haunch where her leg had been. A grimace and a thick bob of her throat displaying her discomfort as she recalled chewing the crushed limb away. She turned to Rye solemnly, her cracked gaze somber and ghastly. 

Then she mimed chewing it off. 

It took a few moments before Imaq could continue. When she did, her voice was ahush. A whisper of things that should not be said aloud, ever. Evil things that only occured when a person's totem was twisted, their personal inua malformed.

As best she could, Seelie told him of the man that had come -- a few weeks after she'd healed. How he'd wanted their starboy, demanding Imaq to give him up or he'd take her and make her son watch. 

How he'd attacked and how Imaq had killed him.

translations: 

Kongak: angry

Nulettukutik: love/lover

Niuk: leg