Ouroboros Spine woza vumani bo

sobeille’s sojourn through the lower arms of the teekon were not without hardship. she arrived at moonglow’s promontory with a few missing pounds; from both herself and her satchel.

setting the worn hide down, sobeille threw back her head in a howl for moonwoman @Kukutux — the woman’s scent here was thicker than the fringes, leaving sobeille with the conclusion this was the moon-mother’s camp.

kukutux knew this face, and offered a smile to see the sea-woman upon the path of the spine.

not so girlish now, but still with youthful light, she had been called.

"it is good to see your face," the duck crooned. "do you have much weariness from your journey?"

it is good to see your face. this greeting, while strange to a girl raised in a apphique, was most pleasing. sobeille liked learning the different expressions and expectations of each culture — for it rounded out her perspective of the world.

‘ello. she did her best to curtsy, pushing the satchel forward. no, not tired. i am here to learn more of your village, if you will ‘ave me.

bones inside i believe? lmk! <3

a bundle of sorts was given, and kukutux took it gently. "will you come and see firemother now? or do i open this first?" she said, her face alight with pleasure to see sobeille, and kukutux felt quite respected in this moment that one had traveled to see her.

yes! <3

sobeille did her best to stand in a way that was polite, but she realized being in another woman's camp, she had no perspective of how respect was perceived in any culture but her own.

she thought of the feral child athalia -- and what respect must have meant to a wolf that lived by the teeth of the world.

whichever you want to do first, moonwoman. sobeille's tone was quiet, but she spoke up again. dere are bones in dere i found, on de way. some maybe 'ave use. some may not. moonwoman sialuk told me to pay attention to de bones, and some dat 'ave power will speak to me. did any of them speak to kukutux?

a glimpse given, an approving murmur. "i will put these on my cold altar."

a gesture to sobeille brought the girl up the bustling, paw-tamped path to the equally active ulaq. she tucked the sachet of bones there and took up a trot.

their gait brought the pair to firemother, and she stood back to let sobeille commune with the splendid, lone tree standing against the stone.

sobeille dutifully took up pace behind the long-limbed strides of the moonwoman. first they traversed a hard packed trail, then passed an encampment sobeille would come to learn was called ulaq.

the trail continued, serpentine as it cut through the moonfolk territory. eventually the ground gave way to stone, and then, a great tree nestled at its hearth.

sobeille grew up in sapphique, where sequoias dominated the landscape. yet, even immersed in their majesty, she could see the power this tree commanded over the landscape. it grew like a flaming forked tongue between bitter roots of stone. its many boughs cut against a cerulean sky.

for a long pause, sobeille tried to rope in that power. it was an aura — a deep feeling — what did it feel like, taste like, smell like? it was but tendrils on the cusp of her cognizance.

where dis tree get her power from? she asked at length, turning to Kukutux with the solemn gaze of a hungry pupil.

"hm. that is a good question."

and her face showed that she thought upon it, drawing from the respectful silence of the girl beside her.

"women give firemother her power. she was made to protect them."

a settling. "long hands of time ago, there was a young woman much disliked in her village. there are many stories of why she was disliked, from the breaking of several taboos around her birth to a dark secret the girl did not say. but she was shunned and chased away. her things were broken. and men sought to catch her."

kukutux did not say more on this, trusting that sobeille and herself would only share in that bleak communion for a moment.

"one day, the girl took a piece of red shell, and with her claws she made the mark of a tree." three lines, one straight, the others projected from the center; kukutux softly drew them in the dirt.

"and from the sea ice sprang a great red tree, and it spoke to the girl. 'when they chase you, hold the shell in your teeth. you will take my form.'"

a soft smile attended the duck's greying muzzle. "she did this, and when the boys jeered and ran after the girl, she carried the shell. and she became a red tree. and this tree stood tall upon the mountain when the sea rose, and swallowed the village who had tormented her. in power, she chose to remain there, and to become firemother to that land, as this one has come to ours."

sobeille listened in grave silence. to her credit, she tried to understand this woman’s culture — and the taboos surrounding it that might influence the decisions of the characters in moonwoman’s story.

yet as the tale progressed, sobeille felt a budding sense of injustice. not for the first time did she think of men coldly, and bitterly ask herself why they must put up with them.

that this girl had to invoke power elsewhere to run from men stoked a latent fire within sobeille; it seemed an injustice she must take a different form to avoid harassment. is that not what women did? took small and inoffensive forms so they might not offend the fragile egos of men around them?

she was silent as she nurtured this bitter thought. the sea in this story came and swept them all away; it was a touching — and profoundly ironic end — but she wondered if the girl was happy to take the shape of something else. if she ever missed the moon’s cold light on her fur, or the wind gently rustling between her skin; if she missed the warmth of the living world, the pulse of her blood as it bound joyfully through her body. these things she would miss as a tree — even if her legacy outlived her tormentors.

after prolonged silence, sobeille stirred.do you like men, moonmother? she knew from the cut of kukutux’s body that she too had taken a different shape after the touch of man — but this was not really what she meant by this question; did Kukutux see any redeeming value in them?

"for a long time i did not," came the thoughtful murmur of the ageing woman. "i saw myself as belonging to them. i saw their words and their role as worth more than my own. i made myself ready to belong to a man."

"then i came to know aiolos." a soft look crossed her expression then, one brimming with the delighted hope of a younger time. "he gave me worship and much, much respect. all the boys now men who were born to us and raised to us have much of aiolos in them."

the springjade eyes held those of the questioning girl. "i like men. but i see also how much power is both given to men and kept from them. it is why women must have their own secrets. men are not strong enough to carry them all, and this knowledge, that we know things they do not, it angers a weak man."

sobeille was hungry to know everything about kukutux -- the stories that made her dislike men, the experience that made her revisit her disdain of them. all these experiences she wished she could consume as one does to flesh -- to take it within her body and make it her own forever.

for she understood in a primal way that you did not own something until you swallowed it.

it was bizarre to her to learn of the world outside of sapphique - why did men think they could own women? she thought the inner machination of their brain must be different in some profound way, for men were frequently feeble and disappointing. it was a shame, for at times she appreciated viewing them.

until they spoke, naturally.

this aiolos -- sobeille must meet him someday. weigh him against the scales of her male experience and see how he measured.

dat is but one man, moonmother. sobeille commented solemnly. in sapphique, de men, dey run like de tide. in and out. some stay but many go. de women be strong and sturdy like the sea. dey stay when de men do not.

she was silent a moment as she reflected on kukutux's words. do you t'ink aiolos and your sons were born with dis respect an' worship, or is it somet'ing internal dat cannot be taught?

the sea.

in answer, a sigh; "aiolos is of the sea. he is from a place where men did not have power. they were slaves," she told the fiery salt-child at her side. "what he brought to moonglow was a respect that men are not taught. they cannot be taught. they must only know. it is the gift he gave to our sons. inside them, they know these things."

"forest or lake or sea, women stand when men do not." moonmother's resolution was in this statement, her eyes turned in force upon sobeille, in knowing.

sobeille’s eyes widened to learn that there was a pack that harbored men as slacks. rather than feel sympathy for aiolos, who had likely escaped such a culture with unseen wounds on his soul, sobeille pined to know of this pack, and learn from them.

kukutux’s forceful statement earned a knowing nod from the girl; she was pleased to hear her words echoed by the inimitable moonmother. her opinion of men was resolute. honed like an obsidian arrow, every thought napped and reinforced by each thing she learned about them.

they must bow, for the women towered above them. dese women aiolos came from — are dey very far?

"far, yes," moonmother said in velvet voice, wondering why it seemed sobeille's interest had sharpened in a poor direction.

"both are necessary to life. both are important to how we are bound to this land beneath us."

balance. a smile invited sobeille on, back toward the ulax with a brief pause beside the lake where wolves worked upon hides.

sobeille’s mind was already on a journey. she mapped out her plan, mentally choreographing the order of go in her endless pursuit of sketching out the empty pages of her forming legacy.

moonmother’s balanced attempt met deaf ears, though sobeille did return the smile.

they returned to the ulaq. she ruminated on kukutux, firemother, and the brazen amazonians of the sea. she thought of the man’s necessity in life and, to kukutux’s credit, even entertained it - but she decided that did not mean she had to like them or permit their presence outside of her season.

thank you for showing me de firemother. sobeille finished in a hushed voice, knowing her time here would soon come to a close.

"i thank you for coming here to learn."

they would pass the time in other talks, though moonmother might wonder later what exactly she had said to the ears of the fierce young sea-girl.

a balance, always. a balance unmended meant darkness, and she had lived in it for too long.

sobeille’s tail fanned to be recipient of kukutux’s warm words; unusual for a girl who often was so reserved in demeanor. she made her goodbyes reluctantly, gaze sweeping for aiolos — but in the end she quit camp by herself, head full with the contents of their discussion.

she picked her way out of the valley, lost in thought.