Ouroboros Spine pijannituk ⩅

kukutux parted her jaws to protest softly, first. lótë spoke of moonwoman's deserving but not her own — she wanted to say that only delight must now open its sunlight into her life.

and then as if it were ice crystals, the last words broke upon the face of the moonwoman's heart, and she grew silent. closed. the greenery of her eyes for a moment arranged with pain and panic; she shut them and took a breath.

of course lótë would wish to leave this place! moonglow had been greatest joy and harshest pain for her sister.

they had walked the same path in this.

kukutux grew strong with the desire to keep her sister close, for herself. for them all. "i love you," and her throat was caught by tears that had yet to fall. "moonglow has strength to guard you, lótë," moonwoman ventured. "my own teeth took flesh from the mouth of a demon. adrastus is is not stronger than that."

"soon the snow comes. your little ones have not yet reached their third moon. i — am afraid if you make a path away, he may follow. it is a hand of days to the caldera."

she paused. "ruenna of redhawk is a friend to moonglow. i will ask for you, so that you do not ... choose a plan without full knowing." so that lótë did not draw her children into the night, and all of them fall prey to sickness or malaise or a terrible wrath. "stay here, please," kukutux urged, though there was no forbidding in it, only worry. "until the new green on the other side of the winter moons. after this, if you still must go, then you will not walk alone."

for she must accept that though the cloudberry painter gave words now, in her heart it was already decided.

"but if you must do this thing, we must — i will ask now, soon. before the first ice comes to kill the earth."

she did not need to wind stories of young children trapped in the storm. she would not seek to frighten lótë, who had already been so harmed and grieved. "this is your home. it will always be so."