Ouroboros Spine iii. out of this home

The painter pulled back, hauling as much dirt as she could keep pinned beneath her paws in a loose mound as was possible. She dragged the pile of clods and clumps, kicking them with her forepaws away from the slightly sunken hole that was to become the entrance to her den. Once the churned loam had been brushed away from the crevice Aiwë was digging, she returned to the small pit and would begin again -- scraping out the dirt handful by handful as she shaped the vision of her future home into a reality.

It was a prime spot, not so far as to seclude herself away from the others but enough distance to assure privacy. A boulder had crashed into this tree sometime long ago, half pulling its roots from the ground. The earth had become shaped around it overtime, morphing to suit the tree's needs as it continued to grow defiantly. It made an almost perfect shape for a den -- she would dig out a pit beneath the low point where the tree and rock had collided and the roots would serve as a sort of roof. She could stash caches around the roots for herbs and meat and was already planning on securing some hides to line her den with eventually. She could even mix some paint and decorate the outside of her home by painting the boulder's far side -- she might even begin arranging an altar to the spirits amongst the tree roots. 

As somber as the atmosphere was here, and for good reason, the vagabond could not help but feel a bit excited as she pondered the seemingly endless possibilities in her mind which helped the digging to go by faster.

<3

Upon scouring the mountainside, he came across a kill that had already been quite chewed apart by a lynx, but he was not a picky man. While the chill of winter's cold settled into the meat and had hardened it, with his teeth and the warmth of his breath was he able to gnaw his way and soften it enough that he could pry into the small remainder of deermeat that had been left behind. He didn't hear the lynx as it approached, but noticed it when it had settled down into a crouch not far away, eyeing him with jealous scrutiny. He paid it no regard, and didn't bother to try and chase it off. Lynxes weren't the sort of creature he felt he needed to worry about- and while it uttered an impatient growl, it didn't make any sudden movements. It knew not to tempt a wolf into a fight. 

So he gnawed through the small deer's spine, and carried the haunches back with him, toward where he knew Kukutux' lair would be. He still did not want to bother Sialuk or Kukutux if he could help it- but he would bring food with him, to share, when he passed in their direction. He was still some distance away from where he intended to be, though, when he heard a scuffling sound, and looked around- only to notice that a pile of dirt had been unearthed. 

He took a step forward, but paused when he saw a fawn-beige female emerge from the hole in the ground, which was being dug beneath and between a large boulder, and the root mass of a tree which had been felled as they leaned against one another. She shoved the earth aside, which was when he noticed her feet, which were off-colour. She went back into the den and began to dig again, but he worried that all this digging might have made her paws begin to bleed. Tentatively, he approached, and dropped the scavenged kill he'd been carrying, and cleared his throat- hoping to catch her attention without startling her too much.

The fawn's ears pricked alertly when she heard the soft thud of his game against the forest floor, the chuff he emitted towards her in greeting. The fawn turned to find a brumal man at her back, short for a male but significantly taller than Lótë. The morco's breadth seemed to be reserved for his build -- which was thick with musculature, stocky and stout. The young woman guessed that he was close to her own age of two summers based on appearance, but could not be certain due to his size -- she could not imagine the thought of him growing older, becoming anymore immense in his prime than the helka hunter already was.

The weaver felt a small tingle of apprehension but buried it as she took a step toward him to face him properly, her auds lowering from their raised position instinctively as her taupe tail gave a wag of welcome. A hushed chirrup escaped her in return, her gaze of pale jade dropping to the deer's spine for a moment before they returned to the male's caramel gaze -- only a few hues darker than her own pelt. "Hello," came her soft murmur, octaves inflected with a measure of curiosity, wondering perhaps if he had wanted something or was just looking to introduce himself as a clan member.

When she pulled back from the den and glanced at him, he regarded her almost shyly, though his features became slightly worried when his gaze dropped to her feet. They looked as though they had been stained, and now that he was close enough, he could see that what he'd thought before had potentially been blood, didn't seem to be coming from a wound. He didn't see blood seep, nor could he smell it; perhaps it was simply the colour of her fur, though it was an odd marking to say the least for her to have two coloured front paws. 

"Hello," He responded, drawn from his thoughts by the sound of her voice. How long had he been staring at her feet? Probably long enough that he needed to explain himself. "I'm sorry to bother you. I thought I saw...Your feet, I thought they were bleeding," He said, somewhat awkwardly. "I was going to offer help," He said, and he drew in a breath. He felt nervous, for some reason- perhaps because he was making himself look like a fumbling idiot. "I'm Adrastus," He supplied, as though an introduction might distract her from his bumbling greeting.

A kind expression softened her stillwater features measurably, lips curling upwards in a faint smile that was meant to reassure the achromatic man. "I am Lótë," she returned, dipping her head somewhat in a respectful manner -- as she had greeted Sialuk on the glacier. 

"That's alright. I have until sister moon chases brother sun from the sky to dig a dwelling," she lilted, glancing over her shoulder just so, green eyes landing on the den she was digging. "Thank you but my paws are just stained," the birdcaller glanced down at her berry-tinted paws as she turned back to the icebear and clarified needlessly, awkward as Adrastus was. 

"I'm a painter," she tacked on in explanation, not realizing that he may be unfamiliar with the term. 

What are the ALT codes you use to write her name? Every time I try to make the o, the alt code takes me back a page.

She introduced herself, and had a fair, but unusual name; one he'd never heard before. She, like him, seemed to be fairly formal with her greetings, which was reassuring. Sialuk had been the same way; he took comfort when wolves were proper and polite, as opposed to being excitable or bold. She was fairly calm, and she took his fumbling observations in stride. This was obviously something she had dealt with before. She explained that she only had what he believed was one night to create her den, and he glanced past her wondering how far along the den was. "Why do you only have that long?" He asked curiously. She certainly did not look as though she was pregnant, and being commanded to dig a den overnight seemed like an odd task to assign a wolf...Unless she wasn't digging it for herself. 

He was relieved, of course, to hear that her paws weren't bloody from digging, but stained, and he was further intrigued. She mentioned a word he knew, but he didn't know exactly how a wolf could be a painter. To him, it was a poetic word- but he'd never actually come to understand what it meant for a wolf to be a painter. "...How?" He asked, hoping she wouldn't mind all the questions he had for her.

ahh I actually don't use one, sorry! The keyboard on my mobile has an option to use special characters such as the o and e in her name and when on my laptop I usually just copy and paste her name or anything that has those letters. Sorry again for the inconvenience, I would recommend a good ALT code but I'm not actually sure what that is aha..

The candlelight of warmth flickering in her features brightens with a momentary flare, an unexpected laugh escaping her -- though not an unkind one. Her features crackling, an ache building in the muscles of her cheeks, with the unfamiliarity of such an expression. "It is ehm, a saying. I meant only that I have all day, and likely many others, to dig my den," Aiwëndil clarified, biting her lip to smother the last vestiges of her mirth -- the candle's flame snuffed out. 

A quick glance down at her mottled paws as the birdcaller wondered to herself what he meant: how she had learned to paint, how one made paint, or how to use it. In the end, she decided to do her best to explain all aspects of creating art with the medium and glanced back up at him, gesturing for Adrastus to follow her with a small cant of her tawny crown. She would lead him over to the boulder that made up one side of her home, if allowed, stopping alongside him to face the oversized rock. "I plan to decorate this part of my home."

"My mother taught me. She was a painter as many women are in my old clan," the tracker revealed, spring gaze dropping from the boulder, flickering earthbound so that anything revealing in her pale jade gems might be hidden, downcast. "Some like to mix and keep their paint in skulls or on the shoulder and hip bones of deer which work well."

"If possible, I prefer to just mix my paint on the ground nearby. This spot would make for a good one," she patted at the flat rock that covered the ground near the boulder, which would make for a perfect planchette. "Most storytellers use things like mashed berries or animal's blood but in some places, you can find certain dirts and clays -- we call them ochres in my homeland -- that come in bright hues. These can be mixed with water or fats to make brightly colored paints, they are higher quality than other forms of paint but it's not always easy to find the materials."

The doe fell silent then, having run out of all the things she had to say about painting -- for now, at least. She repressed the urge to shift anxiously, forcing herself to remain still by her place near his shoulder, as the morco seemed a nervous man for all that he outweighed and outranked the mousy girl.

OHHH I GOT IT. I didn't have "Number lock" on so the ALT code (when you hold down the ALT key and then punch in a number combination to get symbols or accented letters) for the ó was also a key to refresh the page. For anyone else wondering- the ó is ALT 0243  and the ë is ALT 0235 :D SO HAPPY. I love names with accents!

As soon as he realized that he'd misunderstood her, his ears dropped slightly and turned back. He wished he was better at this- and this was the second time (soon to be third) where he'd basically asked for her to explain herself, whether it was what she was doing, or clarifying what her poetic words meant. He'd have to try and take things a bit less literally with her, maybe, something he hoped would come with time. Fortunately, she was gracious enough to take his obliviousness in stride and explain what she meant to him. She even seemed amused that he'd interpreted what she'd said literally, as though for some reason, she only had one night to get her den dug. It was a ridiculous notion, and his own features warmed when he saw her laugh. "Ah, I see," He said with a nod. 

He followed at her gentle request, as she led him around to observe the boulder that made up a part of the structure for her home. He stepped back so he could see her intended canvas a bit more easily, and would have to agree- she had a lot to work with. He was quiet as she explained that this was something passed down through generations- leading him to believe that she likely had strong family ties and values. The way she spoke made him believe that she was quite serious about painting, and had a good deal of experience in doing it. This wasn't simply someone who was experimenting, though it seemed as though she was willing to try different methods and get her paws dirty in doing so. 

While he wasn't entirely certain he could picture exactly what sort of design could be made using paws and dyes, he understood the basic mechanics of it. Having little experience with the arts made him realize there were parts of life and existence that he definitely had not spent the time to contemplate or understand- and while this all seemed quite new to him, Lótë made the topic very interesting. While he wasn't exactly capable of imagining the visual aspect of a finished product, he did comprehend how colours could be made with a variety of sources. That aspect of painting intrigued him greatly. He wasn't sure he was artistic enough to envision a painting, or that he had the coordination to create something marvellous- but colours? Colours he could do. 

"Fascinating." He breathed. Simply looking up at the boulder- a surface he hoped she might fill with brushes of expression, was almost overwhelming. "I have seen earth the colour of sunset," He said. "And trees charred black from fire...Ashes and charcoal," He mused, softly. Perhaps those could be useful? He didn't want to force her hand in allowing him to make suggestions- but he couldn't help himself. This was exciting new territory, and he was enthralled. "I could find you...Colours...If I find them, I can bring them here?" He offered. "You wouldn't have to use them if you don't like them....Or if they don't work, of course," He added- as he didn't want her to feel obligated to accept his offer for help. Perhaps this was something she preferred doing alone, after all. So he shrugged, not wanting to intrude into her practices. "If you'd like that at all."

The rabbit-pelted girl nodded, gentle features lighting up as Adrastus grasped the art form with ease. "Yes, exactly. We have used such things in my old tribe before," she murmured excitedly, smiling up at the larger hunter. At the guardian's offer, her spring eyes widened in surprise -- not expecting that he would offer such a kindness so readily. "I would like that but I am sure you are busy with your hunting," the morning dove lilted shyly, gesturing affably towards the deer spine he had dropped nearby with her dusky muzzle. "I would not want to bother you." 

At the very least, if it would not trouble him too much to bring her colors to try, then perhaps she could offer him something of fair trade. "Perhaps..I could teach you to make paints? If you'd like?" Aiwë offered slowly with a few wags of her tail, hoping she hadn't offended him. It was a woman's trade where she came from but she was not sure if the same traditions applied in this land, or in Moonglow specifically. She didn't see any reason why he couldn't, shouldn't, learn if he had an interest. 

A tribe. A different word for a pack- but it was not the first time he had met someone who had come from a culture that used different words for similar concepts. Perhaps Lótë had come from wolves who had a distinct interest in the arts, the way other packs were stepped in religion or other forms of tradition. He had his own lore, of course, but he kept it very close to his heart. Lótë, however, seemed very willing to share hers with him and he graciously accepted the knowledge she was offering. 

It turned out that his suggestions weren't new, which was slightly disappointing- but he felt certain that he could potentially find something that she might use, that she had never seen before. She gave him a means to excuse himself from helping her out- and he considered dashing that aside and promising her that he would put effort into helping her as well...But it seemed like it might be all the more meaningful to her, perhaps, if he agreed, and surprised her later on, when she was least expecting it. Little gestures like that had always been appreciated in his homelands. "I do hunt a lot." He said, as he gazed back at the deer's haunch. He'd intended to take that to Kukutux. But the meat was still partially frozen- so it was in no danger of spoiling. "But I will see," He said. Of course, he now intended to go looking for things that could be made into paint- but he's rather leave her expecting very little from him, so he could surpass her expectations. 

She offered, then, to teach him how to mix paints, and he lifted his chin a touch. That was very kind of her. He did see this as a trade that was more likely to be practiced by women- which was at least in part why he'd probably felt so strange in spending time learning about it...But at the same time- his family was nowhere to be found, and they wouldn't be able to catch him dabbling in the arts rather than being a guardian or hunter. "I...Yes, Please," He said, and dipped his head. "Thank you, I would...I would enjoy that."

The herbalist gave a small dip of her head, lips pressed together acceptingly. She could not be certain whether this meant that Adrastus would abandon his quest or not but she held him to no promises. His hours were surely filled as Sialuk's were, Raimo's as well -- perhaps even Aiwëndil could be counted amongst the various workers buzzing busily about the hive that the last Moonspearians had constructed in the Spine. He had accepted her offer of tutelage which was enough for now, the dove would wait and see if he found anything to barter for lessons with.

"How did you come to join Kukutux and Sialuk?" She asked of him after a few heartbeats, settling herself on beige haunches of sandstone -- not realizing that the words might be upsetting until they had already escaped her lips. Suppose he had been amongst the number of refugees Sialuk had mentioned from the strange storm and her careless inquiry reminded him of the experience.

He didn't perceive any hesitation after she'd asked him how he'd come to join the small village of wolves, perhaps because he was still gazing at the boulder, and perhaps he wasn't sensitive enough to have picked up on her shift in thought. As he had been an outsider, and not effected personally by the landslide, it did not trouble him at all to speak of how he'd come to join the pack. "I have been travelling South along the ocean since last Spring," He confessed. It had been almost a year, now, since he had begun his journey. "Through the mountains, where necessary," He added. There were places where things existed that he knew to be dangerous- and he had avoided them, seeking safe passage where he believed the dangerous things could not reach him. 

"I saw the star that fell." He admitted, almost casually. There was too much to say about the fallen star that he wished to be kept as a secret. "So I ventured inland, and met Sialuk. I learned that the mountain used to be her home, and offered to search in return for safe passage in her previously claimed lands." He said. He was comfortable telling all to Lótë, as he knew she would get the same story from Sialuk if she'd chosen to ask their leader about him. He liked to be consistent. "I found no one...And felt sad for her to have lost so much. So I offered to stay." He concluded quietly.

The yearling nodded, murmuring, "That was kind of you." She did not mention how her own admittance to the clan of Moonglow had gone similarly, with the offer of assistance in the shattered family's time of need, but her gaze dropped out of empathy and respect for the womens' losses and the songs they still sang every night. The words were not close enough to her own tongue for the artisan to understand but she felt their meaning in her heart, she knew a death song even if she was not from so far north as the duck. "Will you settle in this village?" Perhaps he meant to go when the earth warmed and more wolves were drawn to the timberland of dark pines, when he thought his help was no longer needed.

He was flattered that she thought he was kind- but he felt guilty as well. He was aware of the fact that part of his motivation for coming to the area in the first place was the need to find the fallen star. He had made it clear to Sialuk that he wished to continue searching for it, once the snow had melted- and he had made no promises to her that he might stay with the pack beyond that point. But when his packmate asked him if he would settle, he was silent for a moment. With every passing day, the ring of mountains felt like home. It was peaceful here, and his packmates had all been agreeable. If he left, he might never find a place like this again. 

"I believe I will," He mused quietly. Not wanting to invite more questions into the longevity of his plans in the village, he turned his glance to her. He couldn't see much resemblance between Lótë and Sialuk, so he had already assumed that they were not related. He also assumed that she was not from the pack which had lived on the mountain, either, as her voice had not joined in the mourning songs. "What about you?" He asked, wondering what her story might have been.

"Much the same," she eludes, tones soft and side-stepping as jade gems nictate earthbound. A shield. "Sialuk found me on the glacier and she mentioned that her kin's home had been destroyed in an odd storm. I offered to help." Mayhaps he would find this unorthodox, this willingness to mend what was not hers to fix seemingly without reason. Lótë did not think it so; she had her reasons -- benign as they were. She wanted only a tribe to call her people and a home to rest her bones. 

"And I will stay," the mouse tacked on, thinking that the icebear might want an answer to that question as well. "I have wandered enough, seen plenty. I have no desire to continue such a trend." Willow shoulders heave a tiny shrug, knowing well that she is not the most interesting of creatures. A steadfast, stone woman of earthly values. 

She didn't look up when she spoke to him, but dropped her gaze to the ground. Perhaps simply so she could be polite- but he thought it might also be that she was shy speaking about herself. She seemed to open up when she spoke of art, which was perhaps the avenue wolves might take if they wished to befriend her, rather than prompting her to speak about herself. Her reasons for joining the pack- interested in the welfare of others- were not unusual, as he had done something that was at least partially similar. She too had travelled, but she admitted that she'd tired of a nomadic lifestyle. In that respect, they differed- Adrastus still liked the idea of being able or encouraged to rove about and scout the lands. But having a home base to return to, at the end of a scouting mission, was not such a bad thing. 

"That is fair," He said. After all, travelling was hard work for a lone wolf especially when facing the hardships that came with every season. Flooding, landslides, heat waves, blizzards- there was no escaping nature's cruelty, sometimes. But as a village working together, they could weather the storms with the strength provided by numbers. 

He gazed back toward the scavenged kill he'd found. "Why don't I leave that with you," He suggested, gesturing toward the latter part of a deer's spine. It had enough meat on it for one wolf, plus the benefit of bone marrow from within the hip bones. "To help give you strength to continue working on your den," He said. He didn't want to trouble her or distract her from her work much longer, but was content to leave the chunk of food he'd dug up with her.

The birdcaller glanced to the deer spine and the haunches of meat again, her brow furrowing a little uncertainly. "Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly, not wanting to offend him but she was sure there were others who could use it more and she told him as much. "Kukutux or Sialuk likely need it more than I do," she murmured, thinking worriedly of the Alpha's broken leg and how her daughter had tirelessly worked to bring them all together in such a manner. If he chose to rescind his offer, she wouldn't mind. And if he chose to press the matter, she would give in with minimal coaxing -- submissive as she was, besides she wasn't one to usually turn away a good cut of meat. But it felt odd, this taking without giving anything to Adrastus in return. It made her squirm to think of being indebted to any, even the kind icebear. 

Her concern for their matriarch and her daughter was touching. And he couldn't gauge with any confidence exactly how well Kukutux was doing, as he had not yet crossed her path, but Sialuk seemed to be doing well enough. Still- it was too impolite, he thought, to reconsider his offer and take it away from her. "I offer it to you," He reiterated kindly, with a nod of his head as reassurance.  "I hunt and scavenge for them as well...And I do not miss many meals myself, either," He said with an inward chuckle.  No- he was quite 'broad in the beam' as one might say. He was an easy keeper, likely attributed to the fact that he used his energy very wisely, and was always on the hunt for something to eat. He didn't intend to boast about his health, but spoke of it in a manner that was lightly self-deprecating, as he was well aware of the fact that his busty build made him look as though he might be a bit chunky. He simply wanted to reassure her that in accepting his offer, she would not be denying someone else a meal that they might've needed more. 

"All the best with your den digging," He wished her, with another nod of his head. It looked like she was perfectly capable- and as an artist, she probably had an eye for such things, and had probably chosen a place that was both aesthetically pleasing and functional.

The paint-smeared dove dipped her head in acquiescence, a rueful grin spreading across her features at his joking though she couldn't bring herself to laugh at him -- not just yet. "I thank you then," the yearling murmured sincerely, ears lowering gratefully. It would be rude to insist that he keep it, an insult to his capabilities as a hunter and provider -- at least amongst her native tribe. "It will make for a good dinner when I get done digging," she praised gently, trailing after his broad build a few steps as he moved to walk away -- following Adrastus back towards the entrance she had been digging. 

"And to you -- in your hunting," the girl called out softly in farewell as he walked away, turning back to her work only when his pallid bulk had melded with the deep green of the pinewood and could no longer be seen. She rolled her aching shoulders and then got back to work, sifting the dirt out bit by bit as she dug her scrape in the soft loam.