The Wall Toome

There appeared a change in him, some lightening to the brow which had thus far shielded the green gaze so heavily. Ayovi felt sensitive to these small distinctions, garnering more comfort in her own capacity to relax those muscles which had been set on fire since her flight from Big Sky. The spruce hull tickles her neck. She pushes her crown willfully into the thready fingers, eyelids shuttering if only for a moment. 
The ivory hunter disagreed, of course. Only men who guided with stoic strength, who were wise and fair and good providers would lead. This unified the Big Sky chieftains, and if one faltered, no woman would be permitted to see it, lest his manhood be drawn into question.
“Then I pray you are surrounded with pack when your strength fails, Faust,” Ayovi’s eyes tease when they reopen upon the mountainous man. If there was reluctance upon his face, it was something Ayovi only associated with the possession she'd seen frequently in men.
But she has little way to answer his next question. Her head goes limp against the tree. “East. To forever-winter.” To the kootsinpooäh.