Moonspear kunikkaa ❇

plump beasts, and kukutux watched the roguish smile transform jarilo's features into something wholesome and boyish. "i am ... i have relief that i have done my part as wife," the girl admitted. happiness, but perhaps not in the sort of form he might expect. "i —" from where did all these words pour? " — i am proud to bring children to your hearth."

she was not sure how to comment upon his mother, a woman she had never known but whose spirit still haunted the woodlands. "sometimes the women became irritable before they knew they were full of new life," she offered weakly, hoping jarilo would not take offense. 

did he know how children were made? she suspected her mate knew no more than her on the intimations of the way the gods chose. she had been taught a woman swallowed a spirit, and that spirit fought with her own. if subdued, she would become pregnant. and it seemed every woman around kukutux had been so tested, for year after year before she had been born, children arrived suddenly where there had been none before. and after she had come to the island, she still saw the round bellies and maternal figures many times.

but now kukutux was not so sure, and her face began to pink up again at the memory of what they had done. had that been part of it? the duck wondered, realizing only then she had gone quiet for a long while. "i am sorry, kuluk. lately i have walked alone in my head." thinking of what this might mean, and if she was incorrect, and now what would happen if she was not right, if she had misunderstood the signals of her body. would he put her aside? a man was allowed to do so if his wife was barren. would he take another? did he know he certainly must if she could not bear children?