Shadowwyn Moor sun killer

Sulukinak listened in the manner of one who understood the weight of words more than their simplicity. Sun Eater’s voice carried the announcement like the shifting tide: unyielding, inevitable. Her copper eyes swept across the trail ahead, then back to her uncle. His presence, as always, commanded something from her, but she could not yet put a name to it.

Ice Diver as War Chief. This was accepted without comment; but truthfully, did Sulukinak understand such a role? They did not war. They were hunters.

Studying the face of the Chieftain again, this time without as much intensity, she thought of her uncle’s missing eye, his truths spoken in actions instead of promises. What did the spirits demand of her? What would her own skin bear before her path was written?

The rivulet beside them had not changed, but now the rush of its pulse struck her ears in a way that made her feel small, as if it might rise up and overtake her. Uncle. Her voice caught, then firmed. What more do you have to teach me?

The stillness in her question was deceptive. She met Sun Eater’s cyclopean eye, wolfish silence pressing against her own doubts. A drop of rain caught the tip of her ear, but she stood unmoving.