Ouroboros Spine To all things housed in her silence

solhárr stood still as stone, but his chest trembled with each shallow breath.

he did not speak at first. it took time to drag the words up from the pit of his throat, where grief had settled heavy and unmoving.

she— his voice broke, and he pressed his jaw shut, as if willing it back into place. he cleared his throat, tried again, quieter. she is missing.

he could not look at kukutux. his gaze stayed fixed on the snow between his feet, where a single strand of white fur clung to a frozen branch. as if that alone tethered him.

after our union, he managed, “she… she was with child.” a pause, another breath. pregnant.

his lips curled faintly with anguish, but still he remained still, unflinching. in the night, she left. without word. i woke and… he shook his head. she was gone.

he finally lifted his gaze to kukutux then, golden eyes rimmed with storm. i cannot find her.

a quiet rage throbbed behind his sorrow—against himself, against the gods, against whatever force would dare take her from him now. he had done all the right things. he had built this life.

and still, the wind had carried her away.