Dawnlark Plains cold nostalgia chills me to the bone

she could see the pride, the glow of a woman made huntress, coursing through the veins of the girl before her. this was an admirable feat, a hunt worthy of praise, and so nanuralaaq would let her thoughts sing to the heavens and call for fortune and ever-lasting meals for the dancing one. she asked, then, of honouring the spirit of the beast, and so the snowwoman said: in the land of ox hunters, we thank the ocean for our meals, begun low, purposeful tones. they carried an unspeakable weight.

every river, every stream and every lake comes from her, the sea. she can be cruel, dark and raging ; her storms may destroy, may chew the bodies of the fallen and spit them back out amongst her black sands, for nanuralaaq had seen it. had known and felt loss, personally. but she is also the wind of change ; the salten breeze that guides us, as well as our prey, to the shorelines where they graze, come springtime.

she took in a breath, then, as she moved forwards. black nose found the course hair of the caribou, drawing herself from its crown to its neck, its back, its tailbone, following its long, firm spine. nanuralaaq's voice came in lilting whisper: thank you, creature of north, son of the sea ; your sacrifice does not go without gratitude ; your death does not go without purpose. your life, long, hard-earned, birthed by our all-mother, is decorated by us ; wolves of north, children of sea. you, our brother, feed us today ; give us life. for that, we thank you. may your soul return to sea, as we all once came. be free, a solemn kiss was planted upon the creatures' head. spiritual, in a way.

a lower whisper, now, as she repeated: be free.

when she raised her head, she gave yuralria an approving nod. it was heavy, firm, as if a weight laid upon her shoulders. now, we may eat, and so she would wait for the younger to take the first bite before she herself may follow suit. enjoy it, yuralria.

feel free to fade with your next! <3 love them ..!!!