Ouroboros Spine or in the temple of absent gods

A hearty laugh escaped him as a child zoomed by, clearly practiced at his mischief. His heart squeezed underneath this amusement, but only the shadow of this showed in his eyes when he turned back to moonwoman.

"That's what they call me," he replied with a sheepish splay of his ears. "For how I can weather a snowstorm — not for any kinda bear strength or skill."

His thick pelt was a hindrance, in fact, in the warmer months. And it trapped heat now as his face flushed. A matchmaker — of course she was. He was angry with Dutch at once for putting him in this situation. It was embarrassing to know that Dutch thought he needed help, never mind to hear that he was sharing this opinion with others. But angry or not, his brother held Kukutux in high esteem. He did not want to shame Dutch by behaving rudely.

"I see," he replied, his tone careful until he'd shaken off the brief fit of pique. The tense line of his shoulders relaxed a fraction, and he flashed a wan, almost weary smile. "I shoulda guessed it was somethin' like that," he admitted. "So — what's the verdict? Will I die alone?"