Kildeer Rest otter boy

for @Keda. @Sun Eater for reference

the days get colder, but saatsine marches on.
but he didn't realize that meant moving on to a new woman, too.

ghelan's legs scramble after a white hare. plumes of snow kick up after him, leaving a trail in his chase. they whipped and weaved through the terrain of the plains.
red eyes fixate on the little form, its gallop frantic, and the rabbit never dares to look back. his mouth waters, and ghelan pushes through the bite of the wind and the ache of his legs. a last attempt to catch the quarry, his hindleg gives him one last push in a desperate lunge. luckily for him, the lunge closes the distance and finishes the hunt. but not without a tumble 

ghelan topples through the white mounds, kill firmly and proudly caught even as he's sent barreling through the hills and covered in snow. panting, dryheaving, it takes a moment for the caribou son to realize he's half-buried in snow. only after feverishly whipping his head around, sending more snow flying, does he settle and eat his kill.

but there's still a pit in his stomach. any sembleance of an appetite dissipates, and ghelan is left mindlessly biting but never eating. the caribou are out of sight, out of mind.

k'edghildza moved through the snow in silence, her pale form blending into the frozen expanse like a wraith. the scent hit her first—sun eater. familiar, strong, woven into the boy’s pelt. her ears flicked forward, and she halted briefly, her sharp eyes narrowing as they locked onto the young figure sprawled in the snow.

his son? she murmured under her breath, the words curling softly into the cold air.

she advanced cautiously, her movements deliberate and measured. her slender frame slipped through the drifts with feline grace, leaving barely a trace behind her. the boy was young, almost too young to be out here alone, and the thought settled uneasily in her chest.

as she neared, the hare's blood stained the snow around him. his body language spoke of triumph but also unease, the kind that lingered beyond hunger. k'edghildza kept her distance for a moment, observing, before stepping closer, her gaze never leaving his. a good catch.

he nearly jumped from his skin when a voice arose behind him. his head shot to look over his shoulder, rabbit still firmly clutched. legs as dark as the midnight sky led to an angular, beautiful face. the woman’s eyes like stars. but ghelan frowned, and sunk in the snow. 

he understood for a moment why father chose a woman outside of the hunters, but it dawned on him then — when the woman stood so close — that she was the perfect opposite of aaka. perhaps his decision in bride had nothing to do with her beauty.

she spoke in a tongue he took a moment to piece together. he’d gathered some understanding of it from moontide, the smatterings of conversations the other saatsine hunters have had, and from father’s conversations with them. but never did he have to speak it. never, until now.

setting aside the rabbit finally, he deliberates. mmn.. thank he mumbled, his eyes never meeting hers. instead he watches the herd, even as he could feel her eyes digging into his skull like an icicle.

k'edghildza did not press him, her soft steps bringing her closer, but not enough to crowd the boy. she stood, tall and calm, her presence a quiet contrast to his unease. her gaze softened as she noticed his hesitance, her head tilting ever so slightly.

name? she asked gently, her voice lilting with the cadence of lanzadoii, though broken, her accent thick with the weight of her homeland.

her eyes, patient and kind, remained fixed on his. she made no attempt to hurry his response, no demand for him to look up. instead, she let her words linger, hoping to offer a thread of comfort in a tongue that might feel less foreign.

her tail swayed lightly behind her, a gesture of reassurance. son... of sun eater, she added softly, her tone filled with curiosity rather than expectation.

the woman insisted on approaching. ghelan stood stiffly, preparing himself to move in case she persists too much for his liking, and his eyes finally reach her. the softness of her gaze only boiled his blood further — you aren't my mother, don't try to be her.

but his anger only manifests as a tightening of his brows. she speaks lanzadoii now to him. clumsy, thick with the failure of her foreign, but it was still an effort to learn. ghelan. he gives a loose shrug. ..yea. i'm his son. he says, lacking any of the pride expected for a chieftain's son and instead spoken with disinterest. maybe shame.

the boy began to reach again for his catch before halting. has he talked to you about me? was she here to fetch him?

the boy's name—ghelan—settled into her mind. she repeated it under her breath, as if testing its weight. her silvered eyes swept over him, taking in the tension in his stance and the storm in his gaze. a boy burdened with more than he should carry.

sun eater... no. not speak you, she said in her broken lanzadoii, her voice quiet but steady, as though careful not to fan the embers of his anger. she shook her head gently, her long fur shifting with the motion.

her eyes flickered to the rabbit at his paws. he keep much here, she murmured, gesturing faintly to the horizon, as though referring to the chieftain’s many responsibilities. she did not add that she had wondered why a father would not speak of his son. that was not for her to assume, not here, not now.

instead, she lowered herself slightly, a subtle act meant to ease the space between them. her voice softened further. you look...sad. why?

he feels a slight relief that she wasn't here to drag him back to camp for surely a lecture. a smile crosses his lips as he wonders the weight of that, though. of not being so much as mentioned to a wife. he tries not to dwell on it for long, leaning his head against his forearms as they spoke.

father was busy, but clearly not busy enough if he found the time to fetch a new bride.

it's nothing. he shook his head. he stared at the rabbit. he only caught it for sport, truthfully. a test for himself. i'm tired, that's all. his eyes are doe-like as they return to keda, round and soft.

his words, his expression—they carried a weight she couldn’t ignore. but she wouldn’t press. no mother, no wife, should shame a boy for his burdens, however light or heavy they seemed. instead, she cleared her throat softly, her voice warm and lilting, though broken in the tongue he seemed more at ease with.

herbs. she paused, offering a small, encouraging smile. cache. you help?

her tail swayed faintly, a quiet invitation. she made no move to press closer, giving him the space he seemed to need. yet there was something open, almost gentle, in the way her ears tipped forward, her expression one of calm patience. whatever lingered in his chest, it could wait—sometimes, the act of doing, of simple hands and simpler tasks, could mend what words could not.

she reaches out to him with an offer. a task, one simple enough to share. having nothing better to do, he gives in to her attempts to connect and nods.

he lifted from the snow, and eyes the rabbit. its pelt could be useful, but it'd have to dry first. nor did he know how the seal hunters and his mother manage to get the pelts as plush and warm as the ones he had in summer. for now, he'd have to leave the rabbit as it was.

what do you need? he cocked his head towards the plains. isn't there only dirt and roots here? and too much snow to dig through to find.

k’edghildza shook her head softly, her dark fur brushing against the pale backdrop of snow as she moved. her eyes held a quiet certainty, a knowing that seemed to outweigh the boy’s doubts. without a word, she turned, her tail swishing lightly behind her as she led him toward the clearing.

her steps were deliberate, steady, the weight of her experience guiding her path. when they reached the spot where the caribou had grazed, she paused, her gaze dropping to the snow-covered ground. with careful precision, she used her paw to brush away the surface layer, revealing a patch of greenery beneath.

see? she said, her voice gentle, tinged with a touch of amusement. they hide.

she nudged the exposed herbs lightly with her nose, the faint scent of their medicinal properties wafting into the cold air. her expression softened, a rare smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she glanced back at him.

we gather, she added simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. with that, she stepped aside, giving him space to join her in the small but meaningful task.

she moves with grace and confidence as she approaches the clearing. ghelan trails behind, his curiosity irresistable. she parts the snow so assuredly, and unveils the brightest green grass that ghelan had yet seen. in that moment, he couldn't help but stare in awe, and nod when she finally explains the trickery of the herbs.

now uncovered, their scent laid strange on ghelan's nose. he winced and twists his nose by flaring his lips at their rich smell, huffing as it cleared his nostrils. in his confusion and fascination with the herbs, the boy failed to notice keda's smile.

instead, he took to pawing at the roots to dig, pulling against the snow to reveal more herbs to dig. he was clumsy, settling into a playbow and flicking his paw at the grass in between his attempts to not shred the precious greenery. this was harder than shell collecting, but the boy put his best effort anyways.

k’edghildza watched the boy with a quiet amusement, her lavender eyes softened as he wrestled with the task before him. his movements were eager but unrefined, each paw swiping at the uncovered herbs with the excitement of discovery. she crouched nearby, her frame relaxed, observing his every clumsy gesture.

she said nothing for a long moment, letting him explore the work on his own terms. her gaze lingered on the herbs he uncovered, some roots torn in his enthusiasm but salvageable nonetheless. finally, as his playbow turned into another swipe, she tilted her head slightly, her voice gentle but firm.

is enough, she said, the words broken yet warm with approval. her paw reached out to carefully brush the herbs he’d gathered into a small, neat pile. good. you... learn fast.

it was like a gentler digging. too rough and the root would tear, leaving it useless. but too gentle and they'd be stuck all day trying to get just one herb. he'd realized as he swiped at the patch they'd made. all he needed to do was avoid using his claws.
each pass revealed more and more, and the boy wished to see more, and more. how far can he go until he finds nothing but dirt and worms?
he was another swipe away before the woman's voice rang out. the trance he was in quickly dissipated, and he settled back onto his haunches. her compliment received only a slight smile and a boyish shrug as his thanks. that's not so hard..

but how do you know to find them? was it all guesswork? he watched as she gathered the herbs into a bundle. it wouldn't be enough for a pack, but it was a start.

she motioned toward the shallow divots in the snow where the caribou had grazed. her paw tapped gently against the marks, leaving faint traces in the frost.

caribou show, she murmured, her voice thick with the effort of piecing together the foreign tongue. her gaze turned back to ghelan, patient as she gestured for him to look closer, to see the story written in the ground. she let the silence linger, allowing him the moment to observe, to learn.

after a pause, her ears flicked, and her head tilted slightly as she broke the quiet with a softer, more curious question. what was... your mama like? the words, though clumsy and imperfect, carried a warmth and a quiet respect, her gaze steady as it searched his face for an answer.

husband no speak...i worry.

the divots. ghelan approaches, and leans in close. perhaps it'd be harder to find whenever it was snowing, but they were never a step too far from the caribou for that to become a problem. after glancing up to her for her approval, he paws at the snow. and just as she promised, greenery unveiled to him. he swipes at the delicate grass, but now with the lessons he'd learned.

but he paused in his digging. aaka. it almost hurt to hear it — it struck him like a dagger. the boy deliberates, his brows tightening again. what was she doing now that he was gone? hopefully by now, she'd moved on. perhaps preparing for a new litter with chakliux.

she was kind. gentle, and warm. but always sad. aaka always dawned a weary smile. there was always a weight to her eyes. father was stolen from us. bad men took his eye, and she fell very sick. that's when she made me this amulet, so no matter what, we would all be together. ghelan had stopped swiping a while ago. but his eyes never leave the dirt. everything tightens, and he feels a puffy warmth rushing to his eyes. she fell in love with a new man, and i left with father to become a lanzadoii. and yet, father still won't speak of him.

k’edghildza listened intently, her head tilting slightly as she tried to piece together the boy’s words, her gaze softening as the weight of his story unfolded. her understanding was patchwork, but she clung to the words she could grasp—sick, amulet, new love, kind but always sad. they painted a picture heavy with loss and change, and she could see the struggle etched into the lines of his young face.

without hesitation, she leaned closer, her nose brushing gently against his shoulder in a gesture both tender and grounding. her touch lingered for a moment before she pulled back, offering him a small, warm smile.

the charm... it is lovely, she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of her sincerity despite the limitations of her broken lanzadoii. her gaze flicked briefly to where the amulet rested, her expression one of quiet admiration. she hoped her words might ease the burden he carried, even just a little.

she returned to the greenery they had uncovered, her paws brushing lightly against the delicate plants, yet her attention remained on him. she wanted him to feel that she was listening, that his words mattered. in her smile was a silent assurance—he was not alone.

the cold wetness of her nose nudging him snapped the boy back to reality, nearly losing himself to sorrow. he flinches away like he were wounded, back hunched as he returned to the familiar work of herb searching. 

he only pauses again to speak. thank you. her sincerity wasn't lost on him. her gaze warm and gentle — for a moment it was even familiar. it gave him a brief comfort, but anger returned to him alongside the guilt that came with continuing to reject her further attempts at connection. a quiet lingers between them. its unbearable.

it's nothing you need worry about, though. the silence is broken through a snort, white breath billowing from the boy's lips. he stepped away once he'd dug far enough for her to gather.

she watched him, her gaze steady and soft, unyielding in its patience. his flinch was noted, but not remarked upon. instead, she busied her paws with the earth, her movements careful and deliberate as she unearthed the green treasures beneath the snow. his thanks reached her ears, and she paused, glancing toward him with a small, understanding nod.

i know now, she murmured, her voice low, her words broken in their shared tongue, yet carrying warmth. i will not worry.

a brief silence hung between them like the frost clinging to the air. she let it settle, filling the space with the gentle rustling of disturbed earth. her gaze flicked to him again, her expression contemplative.

husband... does not speak of past, she added softly, her voice carrying a note of shared understanding. then, quiet.

her focus returned to the herbs, fingers brushing through the delicate stems as she worked. after a moment, her gaze rose again, meeting his with quiet determination.

i hear yours... when the time comes.

the boy watched over her work, and his anger gets the best of him. why doesn't he speak of the past? did he feel guilty? is that why he found another instead of daring to return for red leaf? or maybe he really did give up on her.
heh. he chortles, slumping within himself. am i part of that past, then? it slips from his lips. it takes only for a chill to run up along his spine and straighten him out. his eyes are wide and wild. words escape the petrified husk of ghelan.

i'm sorry — i didn't mean it. the spirits might haunt him for this. there was no past for him to tell her about, and there might not be a future for him either.

she stilled, her paws resting lightly on the herbs she had been tending. his laughter reached her ears, a sound bitter and sharp, tinged with the weight of something much deeper. her icy gaze rose to meet his, searching, steady. the wildness in his eyes did not frighten her; it only softened her own expression.

you think funny... to find comfort, she said, her broken lanzadoii deliberate, carrying the gentleness of one who understood too well. as any boy does.

she straightened, brushing the snow from her paws, her attention unwavering on him now. assume yes, then. you are part of that past. her words lingered in the chilled air, their tone firm yet without judgment.

a moment passed, her breath visible in the cold, before she added softly, but now... i am here.

her head tilted slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips, though her gaze remained intent. i want to know you, ghelan. her voice carried the weight of sincerity, her resolve clear as the frostbitten landscape around them. if sun eater like or no.

he'd forgotten that she couldn't speak lanzadoii well. a part of him was relief to see she may have understood his "joke". but another part was saddened. but anger turned to rage as it reached its boiling point.

getting up from his haunches, the exasperated ghelan snorts. just stop. 
for a moment he paces, figuring out what to do. when he finally turns around, his brows are tightly knit, and a dark cloud hung heavily over his features.
you will never be my mother. stop trying.

and he flees back to camp in a sprint. the dark of the boy's back cuts through the snow. the rabbit, its blood brown now, was left behind.

im sorry hes so difficult LOL

she watched him go, the storm of his emotions evident in every hurried step, in every tense line of his retreating figure. the words he flung at her hung in the cold air, sharp and stinging. but she did not chase after him.

he is young, she murmured softly to herself, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her lips, though it was touched with sadness. he will find his way.

she bent to collect the rabbit he had left behind, its blood a stark contrast against the snow. gently, she placed it among her herbs, as though the act of tending to his forgotten work might bridge the distance he was so desperate to create.