Qeya River tarqiup inua

Someone long ago said that all beings are made of stardust.

Perhaps that was true.

Malrok knew the moon as well as he knew his own heart, beating steadily in the cavity of his chest. He saw that great orb in his mind and soul, long before this body was formed and slipped into a new life; 

Long before his own gaze had opened and took in its blue-tinged glow, here upon the Earth.

When Kigipigak and Sakhmet had come together in love, their respective bits of stardust had coalesced and formed two babes. Whether or not the soul that was Malrok was meant to occupy this now-tiny body was unknown—perhaps irrelevant.

Unseeing, unhearing, un. . .smelling. Everything at the moment was tactile.

He kneaded his paws against his mother's belly, feeling the plush fur against his pads, between his toes. Ran his nose along the curve of her ribs, noting each rise, each fall.

Like the ebb and flow of tides, overseen by the omnipresent moon.