Moonstone Quarry The wolf that always seeks his own kind

their time would be quiet.

kukutux searched amid the odd piling of stones, noting how moss grew thickly, how creeping vines twined themselves over rock. a smooth face of pale brown was cleared with some scrapings, some flicks of clawed paw.

upon this plinth, already these flowers setting their root fragrant in the air, kukutux put out three things: an aged set of caribou molars, an old, almost yellow piece of wolf-bone, and a pink shell from moontide's water.

"for earth," the molars. "for soul," the shard of wolven scapula. "for sister," the creamy oceanic light cast by that sea-pieace.

neverwinter had been given in remembering of samani. forneskja honored that here on its altar, the final wish of one founder.

"give me your paw, solharr."