The Sunspire whale rib

One brother. One sister. What remains of Pikpaksriruk veiled upon their faces in bloodmasks. She tastes the dead sister in the very currents of air; effluent of rot exuding from the provider’s skin. And she nestles into it, her mouth tender and full as she takes in strands of mother’s metallic nape, suckling to self-soothe.

Yakona watches the adults. They rove, for this has always been their way. Searching, as Yakona will for Sivaak’s teat. But their thirst will not be sated and hunger only seems to grow.

Sister is dead, traded for another. The red-capped girl makes faces at C’ede’ as he rides Black Scar’s shoulders. Then she howls, throwing her voice fiercely into the cool air as the cavern of her body opens to the simplicity of her needs; as pretty as any parasite could be.