Ouroboros Spine up with the trees

When he looked at the man again, White Elk thought he might see what he'd looked like as a child. Cotton grass was something a mother might call a child — but he found it still suited the man before him. Especially in that tongue. Kannoyak. It was a strong-sounding word.

"A good name," he reiterated, oddly pleased with it.

He was flustered then when he got his answer. Flustered, but his question was answered — he could not begrudge this man his happiness anymore than he could begrudge Callyope hers. Oh, he would fight for her still! Newly, he was determined to do so. But if Kannoyak won her affections, he could only shake his hand.

"She is," he replied with a wag of his tail. "Large and pale with gold-tipped ears and a gold-smudged nose." The most beautiful girl in the world, he did not say, but it was clear in his tone and the wheel of his tail. "I have brought this pelt as a gift for her — but I do not know if she treats them."