Ouroboros Spine ukijijuk ⏧

Lótë drank the answer in, accepting it with a minute nod. Perhaps she had not been raised in Kukutux's culture and her spirits did not hear the voice of a foreigner. Maybe the dove's could not hear Kukutux's. But it was best to be safe and avoid mentioning the names of any departed loved ones, or her own former name -- her true name. 

Her mother's secret name came to her readily. Starbrow. Softpelt-singer. Her own spirit was not so easily captured beyond being  Aiwë, daughter to Elenwë, perhaps she would need to meditate on it further when she was alone. 

The herd-watcher wanted to ask who Sedna was but she could hear the exhaustion in the Moon's rainfall octaves. The aspiring ecologist figured she was fatigued, that her injury still tired her out easily. Instead, she fell into a companionable silence -- offering the murmured words of one of her favorite poems before the two parted ways. A glimpse into she had been before Lótë, even if she could not share it all with her tribe-sister.

Rummaging through winter borne woods,

a touch of spring somehow evades her,

the little ragwort-picker.