Silver Moraine toshin

suliya’s eyes narrowed, though not with offense—there was understanding in the line of her brow, a mutual recognition.

muradoii shape hunters with their absence, she said, voice low. when they choose to keep us from it.

there was no mockery in her tone. it was fact. a truth both women knew. to be withheld from the hunt was to hunger. to hunger was to sharpen one’s fangs.

the flick of sivaak’s tail against her flank was noted. suliya did not bristle. she was no soft-bellied girl; she knew the language of touch among those who bore scars.

the sea made you. the herd made me. she paused, considering. perhaps they are the same.

she bent down, tearing a strip of meat from the caribou’s haunch. she chewed slowly, watching sivaak from the corner of her eye.

you chose war. so did i. she swallowed, licking blood from her lips. but we all end up reading bones in the end.