Ouroboros Spine xvi. but we're still sleeping

AW, botanist #4

The dove had spent the afternoon tracking after the elk herd, observing them for any signs that they were still spooked from the last pack hunt, but found herself ascending into the heights of the Spine as the day cooled into evening -- brother sun drifting towards the eastern horizons. The two-year decided to stop along the way back to her ulaq, tearing a handful of soft green moss away from the stone it clung to along the banks of a thin mountain stream. She dunked the moss, pausing only to slake her own thirst, soaking it thoroughly in the refreshing liquid. 

After the botanist had gathered enough wet moss to water her growing plants for the night, she gathered up her soggy bundles and trotted on through the timberland of aspen and pine -- bound for her secluded dwelling and the tiny garden just beyond.