Qeya River fables

Other Shore pondered Star Eater's response for a moment. "Qeya River". Another name completely foreign to her ears, yet nonetheless unusually pretty. And "Saatsine"... one more strange name, fitting for caribou hunters, she supposed. 

Other Shore had been so fixated on the names that she had to force herself to recall what Star Eater said afterwards... something about weaned pups? Oh, right - they would move when Star Eater's pups were weaned. So she was right about the woman being a mother, after all - the gentleness of her gaze had led her to the assumption earlier. 

"Safe". What a weird word. Other Shore found herself quickly developing an interest to that word, as she did all other words, which was, perhaps, just another one of her habits. Her constant loneliness on her adventures had led her to savor every moment spent with wolves who wouldn't kill her on sight, and that thing called "safety" was a concept that became distant to her the moment she left her home. 

And - well, she shouldn't have been surprised at the den not being named Saatsine. Most people didn't put in the effort of giving specific names to dens, and it appeared that the Saatsine were the same. Perhaps she was spending too long ruminating about each word that left Star Eater's mouth and not enough time actually resting.

After a long silence, the only reply Other Shore could muster was a measly thank you. In response to Star Eater keeping her safe, perhaps? Hmm. The still-fading exhaustion wasn't letting her think straight. 

She laid her head down for a moment and simply savored the silence, waiting for curiosity to bubble into her mind again. She had no energy to waste on small talk, and Star Eater probably wouldn't enjoy being continuously pestered. Unless, of course, Star Eater had more questions for her.