Nova Peak Yēodze

He takes her paw in his and Ayovi is instantly immersed in the lively shades of the man’s face; joy and vulnerability and the misting of sunset gaze which in turn bonds their lips for a kiss. Deep, lingering.
She imagines sex with this Skorpa— like making love to another version of him. She wanted her husband in all his seasons. Wanted to serve him as a priestess before the image of her god.
She follows his hand to the wall, though he is her distraction when his arm clutches about her. Blue eyes witness his first mark and she whispers the sounds beneath her own breath, only breaking them off  to center all her attention on those burning eyes. “Nothing is stronger than me and you.”
With a smile and a sweeping arm she transposes every learned word onto the wall. “Nord. Vildoske. Regvand. Rod jord. Konae. Hjem.”
The resulting scene is winsome, mountains and rain  peopled by bison and wolf, a husband beneath the longboat and a wife—
Ayovi’s paw hovers above the delineation. The belly is rounded to make space for four claw marks.  An opposite paw trails down over her own flattened stomach. Nothing yet to see— but everything to feel.
“How do you say it in nord, Skorpa? Pregnant. Full.”
Her north man was a father.