Moonspear aippaapak ⋰

The girl wriggles like a little worm away from Acrux and into the closeness of kukax. She gives the same look to him; curious, inviting.
The skin of a deer lays before them, and Maggak examines it with a sniffle of her nose. Then, anâmsag rolls morsels of tissue into a little ball; she watches it roll toward her, and from the confines of her embrace, she snatches it with two splayed arms and brings it between her and Acrux. A garbled noise of contentment comes from her as milkteeth sink into the rough texture.
We wet and then dry the pelts — we? The adults, she presumes. Her ears slant before the fated question rolls from her lips; Why?