Ouroboros Spine your picture as i paint it

kivaluk is quiet, fighting against the thick lump of emotion that lodges itself in his throat when she speaks of him being son of their hearth, too. that she could be the happiness and stability that he had yearned for himself.

perhaps, with time, it would be enough to fill the bits of kivaluk carved out with his brother and father's leaving.

he tries to speak, words choking him, before he clamps his muzzle shut with an audible click of teeth. i'd like that. he manages to wrangle out in little more than a whisper.