Firefly Glen No matter how your heart is grieving

Late into the night, Nutuyikruk ran.

Her tail had brushed over @Tautukpik's nose.
Whether he joined her or not, whether he had even stirred at her touch—well, it was too late to have stopped her now. The wind blew in triumphant howls, its icy fingers whipping through her fur, blurring her vision.

She could hardly see over the spin of her own fur and tail, which lashed and whipped about her face like a creature possessed. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each one a small, desperate fire in the expanse. Shaken in her jaw, she did not stop running until she was covered by wild grass and shrouded in the inky cloak of nightfall. Owls croaked and screeched, their voices a cacophony of eerie lamentations. She could not see, but she could feel the darkness pressing in on all sides.

She just kept going, and it was all she knew to do. Each step was a defiance against the encroaching nigh. She had to find her aapa. She had to find her aapa. Somewhere, if she went far enough, she was sure she would find her daddy. But the night kept growing longer. Darker. Colder. Her once proud form, now a tuck of fur and flesh, was dragged down with every step. The crows groaned in wicked laughter, their mocking cries echoing in her ears. She wound in circles, her own shadow a relentless pursuer that crashed her to the ground.

The trees towered above her with waving antlers for arms, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching down to ensnare her. The willows whispered echoes of despair, their voices merging with the wind in a mournful symphony. The ground beneath her was unforgiving, a cold, hard reminder that she was no longer home. It never felt like home without her daddy. The night was a living entity, a vast, breathing beast that watched her with a thousand unseen eyes.

Her thoughts were fragments, disjointed and fleeting, like snowflakes in a storm. She saw her daddy's face, a comforting beacon amidst the chaos, and she clung to that image with all her might. But the cold was relentless, a creeping frost that seeped into her bones. Her senses ran rampant. The wind whispered cruelly in her ears, and Nutuyikruk cried out beyond it. "AAPA!?"

Farther, deeper into the wilderness, she moved, her neck slowly swiveling, eyes wide and vigilant. Frightened by many things, yet none enough to deter her from her tireless walk onward. A curdling cry once more, a raw, desperate plea into the vast silence. All she wanted was to see him. She just wanted to see him again. "AAPA?!"

Forward, forward, she trudged, farther and more lost with each step, walking in the only direction where she had last caught a whiff of her aapa's scent. The night air was thick with the smell of wild grass and muck, but no trace of him. She would fall silent often, sinking into the quiet despair, then rise again, muttering trembling reassurances to herself. Hoping to keep any adults far, far away. Feeble, lying confidence filled her words, because if she kept walking, it would get better. It had to get better. Her voice shook and shivered, breaking the stillness. "Aapa?" Lost. Lost. Lost. Her eyes stung from burning tears, a twisting belly. Stained fur. "Aabbaaaa?"

Her cries grew weaker, the syllables stretched thin by the wind and cold. Each whisper became more diluted, more quiet. Hiccupping between attempts of hidden weep. "Aba-aaaba. Aaabaaa?" She questioned the emptiness around her, her voice a soft, pleading echo that found its way back to her ears. When would he come out of time out? When would he come? The questions circled in her mind, heavy with confusion and sorrow. Why would Aaka punish him for so long? She wouldn't do that. He could come out now, didn't he know? Didn't he know? "Aaba.."