Ouroboros Spine ᐊ angutiq

today, the crimson man is bright and cheery. he had woke with a start and scrambled from the makeshift den he had settled for himself; already in mind with what he would do for the day:

continue trying to court (torment) ippiksaut!

he appears soon with his daily offering in tow, shadow spilling over her. he sets the prey down beside her stone with a dull thud, fresh and still warm, steam rising faint from the torn hide.

for you, the wolf rumbles pleasantly, clearly quite proud of himself. he nudges it a little closer with his paw, then lowers himself to his haunches across from her, humming a gravelly tune. an old war song.

she works dutifully, as always. today with lavender, willow, sun-warmed herbs. scents potent enough they posed a threat to even his musk!

you’re workin’ early, red points out, his single eye tracking the slow curl of salve she gathers. in a hurry? the question falls short as the lumbering man leans in, sniffing at the mix, brow lifting. for, er, the mom? he guesses. what was her name…

his brows furrow. no, don’t tell me. it’s on the tip of my brain. to emphasize, he taps his head with a large paw.