Shadewood tusk dawn

— daa’ka stares.

the stare soon turns to a grin.

he thinks he would like to fall into her like a stone into water. ripples unseen but deep.

my brother is wise. his will guided by the ice-raven. he hums. unafraid now to come closer to her. reaching to inhale scents of the warm hide, then to drag it upon his own shoulders.

wearing her gift with pride. how it smells of her. the sea-stink blood of her mother’s line. muradoii. like the woman who nursed his nephew, feeding him her milk.

the sea-monsters. stories of them told to him by his mother when he misbehaved. he had always been envious. he did not burn with disgust by them—they were powerful. he revered. the muradoii raid. take. burn. they kill kin. they drown men. drown pups. but they are strong. cruel. faithful in their own way. and she—she is not sea-bride. she does not stink of salt and salt alone.

i will take you. he tells to her. brushing scarred face against hers, affectionate, already wanting to spread his musk upon her. we will go away together and hunt, learn of each other. soul and body. he tells to her.

daa’ka burns with hope for the future of his clan. a marriage not made by lust but faith. he hoped soon to make her a mother.