Moonsong Glacier pittaq ▱

The panther followed moonwoman to the unmarked grave, the hair on the back of his neck rising. He hesitated a few steps back and watched her sink into remembrance in heavy silence.

When she spoke, he only half heard her words. He stepped carefully up beside her, lowering himself a few inches away.

"What do we do here?" he asked her, wishing instead he could ask how to raise her spirit. Sometimes, however, there was no smile to be found. That was okay, too.

Her question made his ears flick.

"I do not know," he admitted, although he had theories. "She found a man close in age to me whose spirit had been injured. She said that his heart is warm, and that when she whispered the name of my brother to him, they met like old friends."

He looked to Kukutux.

"It is women's magic," he said, faintly puzzled. He had assumed all women's magic must be universal, despite having an impressive understanding of many other aspects of cultures different than his own.