Ouroboros Spine ukijijuk ⏧

she lifted her head. "i do not know the word of 'poet.' does it mean words as well, words like songs?" she rested now, beginning to grind the edges of the pelt between her teeth. a paw smoothed along the cleared underside, and in the next moment she had begun to scrape again.

such grinding eventually wore down the jaws of the women in her birth-place. but good men fed them, and if they had become mothers with many children, those kills too would be apportioned to the ageing she-wolves.

and so it was a cycle.