Ouroboros Spine máni

for MOONWOMAN!

the night had settled thick over moonglow, draping its shroud of stars and cold air across the quiet land. the fires of the village had dimmed to smoldering embers, and the wolves within their dens had long fallen into the rhythm of sleep. yet, sólhárr found no rest.

stretched along the outskirts of the village, the northwolf lay awake, his golden eyes fixed on the moon—máni—looming pale and heavy above the pines. the night held its usual silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of branches or the distant call of an owl. the stillness was not peaceful for him, but restless. his broad frame was a shadow against the snow, blending into the night like the wolf he was, yet his thoughts were far from quiet.

he thought of callyope, the woman who had wound her way so thoroughly into his soul. her strength, her grace, her fire—it burned in his chest now, a steady ache that he welcomed. her mother, @Kukutux, had spoken of the spirits, of their guidance, and of the path that sólhárr and callyope would walk together.

do you speak now? he murmured softly into the night, his deep voice low and rough as if the spirits might hear him better through the still air. his gaze stayed fixed on máni, as if the pale light might hold the answers he sought. the cold seeped into his fur, but he did not shift, did not stir.

the spirits. what would they say? sólhárr had not been a man of words before callyope, nor one to consider much beyond survival and strength. but now he found himself longing—for her, for their future, for the promises whispered between them. would the spirits honor them? would they approve of his taking her as wife, his bringing her into the ways of the north?

when she found sólhárr, he existed in communion with the moon. her gait would announce the duck before she had come to sit beside him, clad in a wide strip of wolverine fur.

for a long while she said nothing. he was thunder and snow, he was power and the storm of winter. kukutux had no doubts of his strength, only that his heart did not know what it was to be sunshine.

it was more than survival; it was the celebration of each breath, the embracing of taboos to honor even the unnamed ancient ones who watched and who guided.

"you did not come to me before you hunted the ram." but her voice was not a scold.

small hard paw extended, the years of work clear in the seaming of palm and the beginning of gnarlment to the toes which had begun to ache on the coldest days. held there, a piece of pale white flesh from a plant which she did not name.

"dream with me now."

she put another portion into her own mouth before sólhárr's eyes, turning her face toward the moon as its wide bow witnessed nuiruk and forneskja there below.

ears flicked as kukutux approached, her presence a soft murmur in the stillness of the night. he did not turn to her immediately, the weight of her arrival settling over him like freshly fallen snow. when her words came, gentle and measured, they carried no rebuke, yet guilt threaded itself through his chest regardless.

his golden eyes remained fixed on the moon for a moment longer before he shifted his gaze to her, the faint glimmer of its light casting shadows over his features. her offering, held out in her weathered paw, was met with silence. no words could mend the lapse he felt—only action. sólhárr took the plant from her hand, his touch firm yet respectful, and placed it into his mouth, chewing slowly as he watched her consume her own share.

he followed her gaze to the moon, its pale glow a sentinel over their silent exchange. kukutux’s faith in ancient rites and spirits was something sólhárr respected, even if his own convictions felt more rooted in flesh and bone than in dreams.

as the substance took hold, he sat back, his massive frame relaxing into the moment. the storm within him quelled, if only slightly, as he allowed himself to exist within her ritual. though no words were exchanged, his acceptance was clear. he would dream with her, here beneath the watchful eyes of the moon.

they settled in the dreaming.

the moon became more! it became a gravid bow of creamy light which grew greater and greater, and a woman's cries were heard as its glowing face twisted and became a thousand stars —

"it is Sedna," kukutux whispered, sunshine overtaking her tongue, and in her vision, she and sólhárr became dottings of tiny blue light which rose up among those stars and saw the woman's blood flowing into the salt sea below.

from there, orca lived; seal breathed; walrus swam; sea lion leapt.

they descended!

they descended! and brine filled her mouth, and the taste of ancient earth;

samani's soul passed through a mouth with great teeth there below the sea, and the dancing lights shimmered overhead.

kukutux sang aloud the grief-songs, her paw reaching to touch sólhárr's arm in this most sacred of unions she might share to make some part of his spirit sunshine.

nine dances.

nine dances.

antlered beings with single-eyed faces whirled, stamped.

a glowing plant rose from Sedna's breast.

ice became blood became rain became lightning.

she woke with not a gasp, but quiet joy as rainwater tipped over her face, over her own and that of the northern man beside her.

where the edges of reality blurred into the eternal glow of something otherworldly. the moonwoman’s presence enveloped him, and though he had only ever seen her ivory form, there was no mistaking who she was amongst the stars.

the visions came in waves: a moon that swelled and fractured into a cascade of stars, Sedna’s essence spilling into the salt sea, bringing forth the life of the deep. it was the name she was able to murmur, he assumed. his chest filled with a lightness as the water carried him, connecting him to something ancient, something that hummed with the power of their gods.

he saw the nine dances, the antlered figures with their single-eyed faces, the glowing plant that rose like a beacon from Sedna’s breast. blood turned to rain, and lightning cracked across the skies as if heralding something divine!

a soft, joyous sound escaped his lips, unbidden but earnest, as he watched the prophecy unfold. his golden eye shimmered with unspoken wonder, and when the rain touched his face, waking him gently, his spirit felt lighter, more certain.

beside him, the moonwoman stirred, her presence still luminous even in waking. their shared vision lingered between them, and though words were not exchanged, a sacred understanding passed in the silence. together, they had witnessed something eternal.