Gilded Bay [m] your words would leave me unconscious

Building his own lodge would take time and materials, more than what his father might gift to him. This was part of the ritual of it all: to prove to himself he was capable, beyond what his scars might denote. To prove to those of his family as well that he could subsist as his own separate entity. So, he ranged far for what he needed. He would not ask for help, but would accept gifts if others saw fit to give them, because that was polite and expected.

As he moved across the bay, he kept his focus on the various objects netted in the weeds. There were arbutus branches with their orange-brown paper-thin bark; there were pieces of driftwood shaped purposefully square with odd stones (nails) wedged in to them, rust-covered, so they smelled almost like blood; there was even a segment of some small animal, spine and tail, but he didn't see the value in that.

While hunting, someone else prowled the beach who he didn't see, but he did hear. Their song carried across the stillness of the water and Raiyuk lifted his head to peer around for them, bright-eyed.