Firefly Glen tigugaa

"this woman thanks you, ninauga."

she took the dove and tucked it beside one alabastrine haunch.

there were several ways to respond.

the first was thrown aside at once: anger would drive them together and assure both her daughter and the trader of their choice.

reticence would only affect her bond with ariadne.

acceptance was not yet hers; she had only just discovered this and must now speak with aiolos. the counsel and comfort of her sun man had soothed kukutux through many, many years, and it was yet another thing she doubted ariadne would find in the arms of this one.

the fourth then: tradition.

and it said this: once chosen, a man was expected to turn his head toward the family of the woman who had made the choice.

if ariadne wanted this one, then kukutux would not speak against it. she would only demand of him what rodyn had given, what argent would give. he was bound then, to respect her, for if he did not, he would lose face and status among the moonvillages which had sprung from her very own body.

it was an advantage a man would not see. silent. biding.

"what are the words that you have for me, kigipigak?" her jadestone eyes were contemplative, her anger restrained with long years of effort.