Ankyra Sound i keep on dancing through the quicksand

sobeille’s somber face scanned the gloom, silent for a time. she thought of all those that came before; did any part of them still linger?

treepie’s voice carried her back to the present, landing on a name and a face sobeille knew quite well. she would like dat. sobeille affirmed, restlessly shifting to alleviate the pressure on her still sore stomach. sialuk taught me ‘ow to read de bones. dere would be power in a name like dat. and here sobeille was, thinking of what treepie’s children might think to be named after an anaa they never met. she supposed it would be no different then her own children, or her — did she even know what rosalyn looked like?

i be considerin’ squeaky, screamy, an’ stinky. came sobeille’s dry reply as she dusted a speck of dirt from her forepaw. an’ if dat don’t work maybe i name dem plankton, crab, an’ anemone. her face grew speculative, then serious. i ‘ad dis vision of naming dem after my ancestors. i was named after another wolf in sapphique an’ i want to honor dat tradition. but with sapphique what it is — a wave of her paw to stimulate the shared futility of both their positions — maybe it is not so good an idea.