Shadowwyn Moor Hydrurga

suliya listened, the weight of the girl’s words settling over her like a heavy snowfall. there was something raw in the way sulukinak spoke—something that stirred memories buried deep in suliya’s own heart. the mention of anatkuk, of the prayers, of the harvest—these were things she knew intimately, things whispered in the everdark among the sisterhood of muradoii women.

i know these things, she said softly, her voice low but steady. her gaze shifted from the girl to the caribou in the distance, their breath mingling with the cold air like specters of their ancestors. we prayed to our own gods, hidden away. sedna. sasuma. spirits of ice and sea. they were ours alone—no man was allowed to know their names, their rituals. it was the sisterhood that held the secrets.

she drew a slow breath, her eyes flickering back to sulukinak. your mother—she must've followed the old ways. the conclave, as you call it, is what we knew as the gathering. it was sacred. a time to give, to ask, to barter. but it was also a time to protect. women like us, like your mother, hid what needed hiding. because the world beyond the everdark… it takes what it does not understand.

her voice hardened slightly, but not with anger—more a firm conviction. it is not easy to carry that weight. to be the one who knows, who hides, who guards. your mother—she gave you more than you might realize. she gave you the knowledge to keep walking, even when the path is hidden.

suliya's gaze softened slightly, a rare thing, and she nodded toward the girl. this has been the women's way of muradoii. one that i have only envied, from the stories my mother whispered in hushed breaths.