Moonspear monday? no thanks.

anaa raises her voice as the brecheliant girl attempts to explain herself. maggak sobers reluctantly, forcing a deep breath from her nostrils.
you know the tupilak, then? a gravelly tone arches from deep in her throat. make sure it gets what it deserves. just as a word of advice, that's not your friend.
she turns back to face her brother, one paw reaching out for his; a desperate clutch. she wished there wasn't such a crowd, so many bodies and voices. all she wanted now was to be alone with him. she presses her face into the damp, soiled fur of his neck. his pulse pounds against her ear, and outside of the drumming noise, everything fades to static.