Ouroboros Spine nukatpiak

the chanting had initially grasped kivaluk's attention; ears twitching atop his head as he tries to make sense of the womens' words but he does not dare draw any nearer than hearing distance. he is curious but something about the language and the way in which the words lifted from the womens' throats to the winds warns him away.

not meant for him.

there was decidely less excitement in this more concrete stay in moonglow than the last time he'd been here: the absence of his firebrand mother and sullen brother felt like a keen wound that festers.

he will wallow yet for a while.

but he does not wallow idly. he spends his time hunting and sparring and patrolling.

the metallic taste of blood from his most recent kill — left in one of the more barren food caches — still lingers upon his tongue as he cuts his way towards the borders. it is on his way there that his path crosses with his father's own. he lopes closer to his father, letting out a low chuff to announce his presence just in case.