Ouroboros Spine How ever do you do?

Amalia took what was offered, and smiled, before she took a bite. Her brow furrowed. It isn't a happy story.

She gently lay the meat down, while she gathered her thoughts, kindly accepting the honeycomb as well. She would eat and chew after she spoke at length. She settled the squirrel at Moon woman's feet.

My grandparents were healers and storytellers, but they were also nomads. They would offer their services for food and lodging and things they needed.

She tilted an ear backwards, stil as she remembered, it was happy in places, but most of her story or her parents story more so was sad. They were still alive as far as she knew, but where they were she did not know.

My father in an effort to sent down roots, and stay in one place, he grew rigid in his stances, and his rules. But he also tried to cater to my mother and grandmother's more genteel approach. Pair that with migrating prey animals, smaller living spaces, and our pack began to implode. I was sent off before it was too terrible, my parents demanding that I leave, to keep myself safe. So I did. Before that though. We lived in a forest known as Maple Grove. It was beautiful there, and I often visit it in my dreams.

Amalia grew quiet. Her thoughts on her parents and her siblings. Who she had left, and if they were still alive, and alright.