Deepwood Weald arctocephalus

Sulukinak did not know the way. She did not know how far, or if they went along the right path. The man Dutch told his story and she moved silently to follow him, finding comfort in this familiar ritual. It felt like she listened to ice mother speaking her lessons; the air would get colder and the road more icy, and Sulukinak would place her steps in her's, and she would be transported back home, and back to a time before the running. At least this was the feeling she had. She knew it was Dutch who did the telling now, and only wished for these other things deep down.

His lesson was of the aether, here. The swirling mists and what powers they held. Sulukinak took in this information as truth, because he had been waiting in the mist for her, and they were united in some way after. To know that these spirits existed here and had sought her out, even taken favor upon her, brought a lightness to the girl that hadn't been present before. Dutch stopped to look at her, and the shadow was peering away, watching the movement of the air.

As Dutch was turning back to lead, Sulukinak caught the motion and watched him, and then asked as their pace resumed, Will the spirits bring my brothers to me? The way the air parted to accommodate her voice made Sulukinak feel too loud; or maybe the now living desire, having been spoken, had scared the spirits? She shrank a little bit, and licked her lips.

In a very quiet voice now, she says, They're good boys. They're just a little lost.