Ouroboros Spine foxfire

no one.

she could not become his mother. he was a hunter upon the edge of manhood. it would not do well to coddle him, to pull him back into the ways of being a boy. lifting fore-ankle to wipe aside the tears that belaboured her. she was finished now, focused upon nuak.

"once upon a time, there was a grey man."

do not, wept her soul, but she went on.

"the grey hunter was loved by a white bird. by a night bear. by a black fox. and still he was not happy."

"he said to the white bird, 'leave me alone. i have left my children in a valley.' and then he went out to fight."

strange, to tell the story of the trader without saying his name; it was upon her tonguetip now as if it had never left.

"but he did not come back from his fighting. the white bird and the night bear buried him in the ice."

it was not like the stories she had told before.