Silver Moraine And the cracks in my hips

Calfuray had taken the time to lick her wounds clean, and now she had moved on. Past experiences had taught her that is was not wise to remain in one place for long.

Limping leg behind her, the one-eyed, snaggle-toothed, and short-tailed woman thought she must look like a walking catastrophe. Inhaling a sharp breath, she looked south. Nothing but white on the horizon, though at this time of year it should be expected.

After a brief pause she shifted to continue her walk down the rocky, dried up river bed. The world was quiet for a moment with the exception of a cool breeze, but this peace was not made to last.

The crunching of snow was quick to draw Calfuray's attention, single eye searching for a source as she ceased movement; frozen like a deer searching for it's predator.

rala would follow the shallow tracks, almost completely covered by recent snowfall, of her patient. when she had woken up in the morning, she had been saddened to find that the injured woman had seemingly fled before snowwoman could rise and check up on her. now, she kept a safe distance, ensuring that she did not sustain further injury.

but, it seemed that otherwise graceful paws had been a tad too loud, too misplaced this time, and the loud crunch of her paws meeting the ground had alerted calfuray to her presence. an awkward grimace grew upon her features, but she quickly shook it away, adopting a calmer expression as she approached ; one that placed no blame. no anger.

do not mean to stalk, the polar-cub explained, ears almost flattened in a sort of apologeticness, drawing herself closer to the darker woman. you were gone in the morning - i did not want you to worsen injuries, cold-dawn eyes would glance to the wounds on her leg, tilting her head as if examining them with curiosity. feeling...?

It was no threat that approached, only the snow-coated woman who had kept her company the night prior. A feeling of guilt washed over her momentarily; maybe it had been rude to leave without saying goodbye.

My leg will be alright. She responded, looking back to where the wound was beginning to scab over. I'm tough, I can handle a little scratch.

Resting was not much of an option in Calfuray's mind. She had to keep moving - a still wolf was a vulnerable wolf. 'Was' because they wouldn't be living for much longer. Did you sleep alright? I know it isn't always nice out in the open like that. By now most would have been chased off, but for some strange reason she just couldn't bring herself to be mean to Rala.

ah, so it was healing. scabbing over now, there seemed to be no visible sign of infection ; no inflammation, nor pus, nor obvious odor, and so nanuralaaq was pleased, heaving a soft breath, as if relieved for the good health of what was practically a stranger. and truly, she was. the snowwoman was more than relieved to learn of calfuray's betterment.

i am glad, snowwoman spoke - a humble understatement. although wolverine wound is ... less than 'little scratch', a smile upon her face, but a firmness to her words that silently instructed the injured woman to rest, if only for a moment, preferably for a few days. she then asked of how rala slept, resulting in a dry amusement.

giving a shrug of pale shoulders, she spoke: ox-hunter children spend less-than-sunny summers sleeping upon the plains, following aqqutingit and the caribou, she explained, thinking back to the thin streams that led to the ocean and drew from the lakes, leading the animals to and from throughout the muskox grounds. oftentimes snow is cold, and wet, much unlike this, a stomp from her rightward hindfoot.

the snows here were softer, more comfortable than those of her homeland.

why? you slept ... uncomfortably?

It was not that she had been uncomfortable. In reality, winter was one of the more comfortable seasons to sleep through. Cold, maybe. But not uncomfortable. Calfuray rarely slept well - taking the phrase 'sleep with one eye open' a bit too sincerely, and when you only have one eye in the first place that can make things difficult.

She was paranoid, she knew that, but it was not without reason. Calfuray knew well what threats the world possessed, and she knew just how willing it was to throw them at someone. Maybe she deserved it, or maybe she was only unlucky. She did not know.

Now she took careful steps towards the other, noting the words she shared of her home. I took you for someone who enjoyed the luxury of a den. She mused. Far too aware of her own appearance she made an attempt to hide her snaggle tooth within her jowls, though it was not made to fit there. Your pack was nomadic?

snowwoman took note of how nightwoman made an attempt of hiding her snaggle tooth, of which she said: do not hide it, in a soft tone, a tilt of her head given in a form of reassurance. life was difficult, and, as she had heard and said before, survival was a cruel teacher - it was clear that calfuray had seen such a thing. she resumed, then.

we den while young, huntress explained. upon siqinniqtillugu, eh, the sunset plains, named in accordance with their colour, akin to the time of day. sunset-orange grasses spreading in every which way, thin rivers, and large boulders that had their bases dug out to form tunnels or hollows for densites.

quite the talker, nanuralaaq was. but she would not stop there, no. then, after summer on the snowy plains, we spend the rest of our days following caribou. large hunts, feasts for the growing children, pelts being prepared to line our dens. caribou are big, strong, and we face much death in the cold, harsh winters. so ox-hunter people try to bring happiness with food, song, and dance.

it is our culture that warms us, she said, a sense of finality washing over her. she could not return to her culture, to the peoples that had bestowed the years of it upon her, but she could revive it, turn it into something new within these lands, rest it upon the shoulders of her children. now, with a careful amusement upon her face, she said: once, you say i talk alot. still think so? a sarcastic chuckle left dark lips.

although, even when trying to be sarcastic, warmth shone within her gaze.