Ouroboros Spine poetry

Her eyes were already closed but she squeezed them tighter.

She knew boys became hunters, this was something she had discussed with Mo! He was to hunt, she was to make furs for him.

Her heart was heavier than it had ever been. She remembered the words of bear-face most of all now.

"Once a male gets to be almost 2. They leave."

Yet Mo was no such age! Now he was off, a spirt-walk.

She stirred, standing and moving to press along her mother's side.

Yes. And she would grow forlorn once more, content to follow in silence unless spoken to.