Ouroboros Spine ukijijuk ⏧

The herdstalker wandered, dyed paws muddied nearly up to the knees from work in her gardens -- a task that had been stilled by the rainfall and the threat of snow. She'd meant her footfalls to lead her to one of the trickling mountain streams hidden in the blackpine of the Spine's upper ring, or maybe to the lake in its depths, to clean her fur but when she passed close to the Moon's den and smelt a fresh scent trail, the herbalist thought to stop and say hello. 

She was curious to learn more about the wisewoman who led them, and the culture she shared with her raindrop daughter -- for she felt that her own native tribe held similarities, that their peoples might have been cousins if not sisters. There had been interesting furs, far better than  Aiwëndil's crude workings, and other trinkets scattered amongst the shadows of the ulaq the first time she'd seen it, but the duo had been in mourning and it hadn't been appropriate to visit or compare methods of hide-working. 

Wandering closer, the mouse called out softly, with some hesitance -- hoping not to disturb Kukutux if she was busy.