Dawnlark Plains ranger

his spine bristles at the mention of blood, the sentiment not shared between the two of them. She was traditional; himself, perhaps brainwashed to older ways, saw things differently. this was an aspect he must keep secret—such ritual was not welcome, he knew that.

yet She had eaten of the carcass.
whatever he had aimed to accomplish with the gutted sheep, he had seen the magic shift and mutate as needed. so went his thinking.

kukuvrak had earned his name with the same such rituals. a canticle unspoken before anisaġniq—sacrifices made, of meat and men, and with no help from his sister. a name corrupted, at least to true tartok, but still his own.

glowering, kukuvrak draws attention to the east, where the river camp was settled. saatsine.