The Sunspire whale rib

muradoii calves are at best useless worms. @Ts’okhun, @Yakona, @Cetseni — the ones who remain alive.
third daughter had been cast into the fire only hours earlier. choked while feeding at sivaak’s belly, and the muradoii queen took it as a sign. a terrible omen, one that spoke of death.
her teeth found the mewling child shortly. coating the fur of the remaining in splattered blood, including son of black scar who nursed greedily alongside her calves.
his resemblance to her own brood helped in her accepting him. perhaps she would not have taken to him kind otherwise.
she walks now with her pups slung within thick, old caribou hide that rode once upon the shoulders of sivaak’s own sire. coating them in the essence of him that remained, a comfort to the protective ursine mother, a balm to know her progeny swathed in his spirit.
and something hungry in her brings the snow-pelted blood-drinker to amble with muted, thudding steps behind the chieftain, who carries his own son, unwilling to let lanzadoii blood out of his sight. and it is warm to her own sight, that feasts hungrily. sivaak feels something maternal and bestial stir in response.