Hoshor Plains pavva ≖

A lesson, wrapped in a name that still sat behind her eyes, under her tongue, behind her teeth. She did not forget the name whispered to her on her wedding day, so long ago, and the grief settled again over her shoulders. It was lighter, now, but still present.

Vairë cast her gaze away, then back to her mother. There was sorrow there, for the sea-sister, for her family, cast adrift with no anaa. Moondoe reached over to place her paw on her mother’s, trying to radiate steadiness.

She is among the dancing lights. She knows this now. Trying for comforting, but perhaps falling flat, Vairë’s face shuttered at her mother’s next set of words.

If Sedna does not know them, will they go to the dancing lights? Will Kigipigak? Or did the tradition that mantled him have its own deaths? Vairë did not ask this, nor would she. Old Doe still wished for her to bring him to heel, like he was nothing more than a spring buck getting too frisky around an older matriarch. So in this, he would win.