Nova Peak Núuruachiu

anoré drank in silence for a moment longer, the warmth of the tea settling into her chest like embers beneath snow. 
there is an dull, hidden ache in the woman's gold-dusted words. she let it steep like the tea between them.
then her eyes drifted, not toward the mountain, but the horizon, as if searching. a long pause passes through their space. but it is comfortable, and she does not reject it.
"family," she said at last, "when it is true, it binds like sinew. stronger than the spine. it calls you home even when you do not know where that is."
she shifted then, slow and thoughtful.
"—but the wolf that follows the trail of another may never know the shape of her own hunt."
a beat.
"what is it you seek?"