Bearclaw Valley saw death on a sunny snow

and he was so kind.

and she was so selfish in what she longed for.

dolce can have your heart, if that’s where it belongs, but it belonged to them both. to have them near, the two of them, to mend them and laugh with them and hunt with them. to fight side by side, to rest and to possibly love the both of them. just the thought of it made her heart yearn for something she could not have. a care that extended far.

a chance, he said. and there was. there were many chances. there was a chance that, on their hunt, she changed her mind and turned her attention fully to him. there was a chance that, on the first day of meeting dolce, she had never parted from him and the storm cloud had never drawn her curiosities. she was silent, now, her head hung low, the girl that was unabashed, open with her words, that did not care for what anyone thought of her, now ashamed. wishing for something impossible. something they did not want.

nanuralaaq did not love easily. she hardly loved dolce or tvar, but it was this choice that would have to be made if she wanted to learn how to love. to be taught, maybe. the snowwoman gave a breath. she was sure. i am selfish, in wanting what i do, she said, then, looking up at tvar with a pain in her eyes. how feelings could grow in such a short time - it was hardly romance. but was it something less? something... more? i want you both. i want to care for both you and dolce, to hunt together, to be as one... together, she looked away, then, afraid of what he might say. she closed her eyes.

but that is not what either of you want, she murmured. it was with a dry laugh that followed her next words, a pain that tore her heart in two: how am i to choose?