Kildeer Rest nìkeftxo

aw, but preferably @Ravah !

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He dreamt of the sea and Great Mother. Of black-sanded beaches he and his brother stormed. Dreamt of a militant father, an ill mother. A younger sister who hadn't made it out of the den before sickness claimed her. Of sorrow and loss that Tsu had tried to shield his younger brother from. A brother who often sneered more than he smiled, and wished for the company of none but always made an exception for Tsu'tseya.

The shared blood in their veins had brought them together in times of great pain. Tsu had learned how to handle the brunt of the world, so his brother could sleep just a little easier. He’d taken it all so Seäe knew nothing but unconditional, brotherly love.

In that dream, Seäe had blessed him with a rare smile. A squeaky laugh from a boy not yet on the cusp of man. Tsu had never seen him look so happy. He wondered if Great Mother had heard his prayers, and lifted the spirit of a boy so broken. 

And then he awoke, cradled in a bed of prairie grass, with only the faint scent of brine upon his withers to tether him home. A twist in his gut when, as he squinted against the flare of the eclipse, his brother was nowhere to be found.

They'd lost each other before. But this was different. He couldn't feel him.

"Seäe?" His voice is swallowed by a gust. His brother's response never comes.

with dawn came ravah. 

she woke with the first of daylight, before the sun even broke out behind the mountains to the east. having pulled herself from the den she had dug for herself, away from the communal ones, and tugged on her pelt of snow fox, she ventured off from the valley.

home was what you made it, and she was still having trouble adjusting to her new life in great sky. she longed for the open, snowy plains of big sky; the caribou which roamed and the great oxen. and now, she was running away from both @Callahan and @Sega. 

both for completely different reasons. and though she was largely at fault for what transpired during her hunt with callahan, she stood firm on the idea that he should not have even been there in the first place. if he had left her to her hunt, they would not have butted heads. and the woman loathed to even think of sega tuhut and his golden fur. so she led away into killdeer rest where she followed a trail left behind by a buck in rut, her head to the ground and her nose ringed with wet flaring in deep gusts. 

she nearly misses the figure laying amongst the tall grasses, and when she notices him, ravah pauses stiffly. her neck inclining, ears twitching; his voice, whatever he had muttered, is faint and she huffs in response. 

the sun come. ravah points out with a slitting stare. early bird is getting worm. make day useful.

Great Mother's mighty heartbeat doesn't pulse beneath his feet here. The cold ground, coated in snow-drift, is lifeless. Alien. Tsu rose on shaky limbs, squinting against the blinding sea of white. Searching for the warm body of his brother, and feeling defeated when he does not find him. Tall grass, frosted and stiff, teased his underbelly. Like the flow of the sea. There is no ocean. This is not his coast. How far had they ran? Where had he followed his brother?

Toes do not sink into sand, but fine pebble and dirt. Each lung full of breath is sharp and cool, whereas it'd been warm before. Her ocean had always been warm. Seäe, wherever he is, must be freezing. Tsu'tseya's heart wept at the thought, before a womanly voice drew him away from his sorrow.

There she stood, backlit by the eclipse's light. Tsu exhaled a ragged breath as he wobbled to face her.

Her words are alien, too. A tongue he faintly recognized, a tongue his people hadn't spoke unless it be to vagabonds that washed upon their shores.

"I not know what you mean tuté." He rasps. Hunger eats at his hollowed sides and thirst claws at his throat.

"Where am I?" As this was not home.

ravah hadn't realized before, but now she does. watching as the yearling stumbles, wobbles, uneasy upon his own four paws. something he should be accustomed to by now, and her expression shifts from harsh to... softer.

oh, she sighs. all thoughts of callahan and sega are whisked from her mind.

the woman picks her way over to him, gingerly, the plush winter tail of hers tucking amongst her hocks. careful to not spook him off in anyway, though he didn't seem flighty.

ravah hums partially to herself as she looks him over once, swallowing her prior thoughts. kildeer rest. she says to him, pale eyes dropping upon his famished flanks and gaunt features.

a tsk. come, ravah beckons. i taking you to cache i make nearby. and in case he does not know what that means, food.

Kildeer rest. Somewhere so far from the coasts he called home, and far from the kin that reared him. Tsu's ears turn backward, his lips pursed in thought. Eyes search the horizon—searching for a roaring ocean and his home tree. Nothing here is familiar. He feels alone, even with her softened call to join her side.

He does so, as he'd been taught always to heed the call of an elder. Paws too large for his own good draw him to follow in line. She spoke of food and this word he recognized. A low growl bellowed from his stomach. He dipped his head in gratitude, his sorrow-filled eyes expressing as much thanks as they could. "Bless you." He muttered. Even if he could not feel his Goddess, he would still utter her good tidings.

The prairie is as vast as the sea. It's woefully different, too, as a sea of grass sways in the breeze instead of the tide. Its sway makes the bike crawl up his aching throat.

"My brother...gone. Have you seen? His name Seäe. Tsu fears he knows the answer. He fears it will fracture his soul further.

”He know better. Lost still.”

she is swift upon long legs as she leads the adolescent towards the nearest cache she had settled into the earth. several pieces of small prey stashed within an old fox hole.

her ears rotate backwards so that she can hear him better as they walk—despite her affinity for trotting, she didn't wish to over exert him—and his inquiry rolls over in her mind.

he was the only youth she had seen outside of those in great sky, and even then, none went by the name given. ravah's head dips between her muscled shoulders as she imparts to break the news:

no, ravah says as sensitive as she can muster without sounding as if she pitied him, but many moving into taiga. boy brother might come yet.

her gait slows as they near the cache, and standing before it, she inclines her head down towards the den. unearthing what she had used to cover it with nudges of her nose and a few scrapes of her paw, and then she produces the carcass of a ground squirrel. it is still fresh, and though small, it would be enough to provide him some strength back.

but as she lifts her head, she can see in the distance the silhouette of @Sega. those silver eyes of hers betray nothing as she turns away from him and back towards the yearling, nudging the carcass to him. eat now.

sega had been checking the caches, the plethora of them scattered upon the edges of the territory. when he came upon this one, ravah’s shape cut clean through the snowlight, but it was the smaller figure beside her that pulled his brow tight.

a boy. too young. too thin. and speaking words meant for family.

sega stepped from the cache’s mouth, snow breaking under his paws as he approached. his gaze slid from ravah to the stranger. standing beside ravah with a dominant claim, he puts his nose to her ear, scenting her.

switching to their native tongue, his voice rumbled low.

who is this you've picked up?

His umbilical cut from Her, Tsu's misery is his own to bear. His brother lost to these wilds. He has nothing to follow, if only the whiff of a scent carried on strange winds. Where Tsu once strode, he sulks. His shoulders are heavy from loss he can't accept, his frown etched into a weary, youthful face. His purpose has always been Seäe. To protect, to coddle, to love where his kin hadn't. Is his brother lost to a new sea?

Is his brother searching for him, too?

Tsu'tseya's head hangs low and heavy. Slowly, he walks behind the moon-woman until the scent of fresh meat makes his sides ache and burn. He watches for her to take the kill, before he can. She doesn't. It's with her approval he inches forwards. Teeth sink into meat. He is grateful for the morsel she provides, even if eating feels taxing. He would have given Seäe this kill instead. 

Tired eyes of gold flicker toward a new figure on the eclipse. Tsu lowers his body in submission, as he's been taught. Watching and waiting as the man watches.

with each approaching step of sega, ravah only grows more tense. tense in her stance, a stiffening of her legs and her neck. tense in her gaze that cuts from the boy to him. 

but most tense of all whenever sega flags himself beside her, as if she is something to be claimed. reeking of dominance, the woman instinctively steps away from him, and cuts him a questioning stare. 

he had never treated her in such a way, never. chieftain or not, she saw no reason for him to begin now. certainly not when she knew there were plenty of young women in great sky lining up to receive their cut of attention from sega tuhut. 

whoever that was.

a boy. she replies. curt. uncharacteristically cold to him, now. lost. say he looking for brother.

and then her gaze slithers back to the yearling who has lowered himself in submission upon the ground, his eating paused. recognizing the need for it, she says nothing and instead looks to her leader to address him.

sega slowed beside them, snow whispering around his paws. ravah stepped away from him— he let her, easing his stance to something neutral, open.

his attention settled on the boy curled low to the ground.

stand, boy.

when the youth lifted himself even a little, sega shifted lower to the ground at his level.

your name, he said, gaze steady. and this brother… what he look like?

a pause, a flick of his ear toward ravah in quiet thanks.

great sky will try to find him.

This tongue may be alien, but the command is not. The yearling rises, the carrion forgotten, to meet the eyes of the man born from hillsides. Tsu is reminded of his father, but this tone is far kinder. Clan born of the tide had never been kind, not to Seäe.

Tsu frowns at the mention of his brother, his ears pinned against his sleek skull.

Before he answers, he seeks the woman who found him. Observes her wake with a soft chuff, before he finds what must be her Olo'eyktan.

”I Tsu’tseya.” Even his name feels alien, in a place so unfamiliar.

"His name Seäe. Sea-born like me. He lost. Afraid." Though maybe it is he who fears. It is his job to protect, to provide. It has always been Tsu's responsibility to hunt and provide. The ache in his stomach that isn't born from hunger twists all the tighter.

"Great Mother thank you. Without me, he alone. I all he has." His appetite lost, the yearling sat within tall grass with a heart heavy.

watchful silver-lit eyes observe the situation.

observing of the way sega handles the yearling with such... kindness. it is foreign to her, in more ways than one. even his uncle had been more rough when addressing strangers; and maybe...

that was a good thing. and she looks to sega with a thaw, albeit small. it is a gentle look, not lasting long, before passing once more to the younger one.

his name is tsu'tseya. ravah hadn't cared in the moment to ask for it—maybe a maternal instinct, too focused on getting food in his belly than to worry wart over such trivial things. but now that she knows it, a small smile grows upon her face.

a fondness.

it brave thing, she says with a soft voice to tsu, to be afraid. even strong warrior and hunter know it. then to sega, ravah hums. a glint of something she does not yet know in her eyes. gratitude, for helping this child when winter was strikingly upon them all.

she leans down with her nose to the food which tsu has hardly touched, eyes narrowing upon him, almost scolding. eat, now. she says again.

tsu’tseya, he repeated, shaping the strange name carefully. his brow knit at the mention of the missing brother, the fear beneath the words plain as cold air.

he stepped closer, lowering his head to meet the yearling’s eyes. we look, he said. not today, but soon. many trails in taiga. maybe brother walk one.

ravah’s gentle scolding made the corner of his mouth twitch, and he nodded toward the half-eaten meat.

eat, sega echoed, firmer. strength first. then search.

his gaze flicked to ravah, catching the warmth she tried to hide. a small, steadying nod passed between them before he returned his focus to the boy.

you not alone here, he said quietly.