Ocean's Breath Plateau [b] anuqłiqł̣uk

a son.
the weight of such a realization was delayed, as red leaf spent the first moments following her child's birth weeping with gratitude. weeping for the fact that he was alive, that she was alive; there was only one, only him, and in some selfish way red leaf was glad for this. less resources were to be taken from the gracious moon people, less mouths to whittle away at her strength, but most of all, it meant her love could be channeled into one cosmic calamity, one shining beacon of light in the dim, dreary den.
a son.
immediately she guides him to her breast, not wanting to spare a single moment. she relaxes when she feels him latch, familiarizing herself with the odd sensations and cleaning him with gentle swipes of her tongue.
my brave boy, she whispers only to his ears. i will call you akiak. would you like that, sweet boy?
and then there is a shadow looming before her face. her husband.
you are ghelan.
so quickly the mother's joy is stolen from her. she smiles hazily at him despite the gnawing agony that now crawls up inside of her bones. ghelan. it sounded like — was he only a replacement for ghaden in cen's eyes? it was as if cen had stolen her peace, her moment of familial bliss, her moment of maternal connection.
she had paid her debt. she had earned her worth. this was all he had kept her here for. what now? would he stay? would he take her son from her? would he get better? would he get worse?
she watches as he yanks the amulet from his throat and settles her gaze upon the scattered remains of it, and despite this removal of her spiritual chain, she feels the furthest possible thing from free.