Moonspear i will take the sun in my mouth & leap into the ripe air

it did not sit perfectly with kukutux that she had not been told the truth of her trade.

and she did not understand even now, as she waited demurely with head bowed, flinching at the continued wrath of the great stormcloud against the gentler shrinking mien of andraste. a desperate jadestone look given to her former regent; kukutux dared not watch the elf fly free.

but her trembling began swiftly; she was alone now, and though hydra had sheathed her swords and came back to speak of the barter with her large counterpart, kukutux could not bear but to feel more agonized than before. she picked over her furs, gathering her things slowly.

the man addressed her, and the pathetic little duck wilted somewhat to see that he had not even made acknowledgement of hydra's offer of her as wife. was she so ugly then? not worth even the squall that had heralded her being? arcturus, him, and the great lady hydra. 

"i thank you," she mumbled, frightened, resolved to become formal to the point of utter humility. eyes downcast, she raised her voice somewhat despite the events that had shaken her.

"i ... must have a husband," the girl ventured, chewing her lip nervously. "i believe that my skills are bride-price alone," for that was the last gift andraste had ever given kukutux: the promise of her own merit. "but, kallak," the duck pleaded her last to hydra, "it is also the best way i will be able to prove myself to you. you will not regret me."

silence now; she cast herself low and waited.