Ouroboros Spine foxfire

Not her husband, just someone close. It would have been intriguing if Nuak had the capacity to care; it wasn't until Kukutux took a breath and divulged a strange detail that Nuak's face contorted, frowning. Confusion reigned a moment; he sank back among the reeds, unable to parse what he had heard.

It didn't make sense. Yes, he had been born in a valley, and yes his father had been some kind of warrior, from what Nuak had been taught. It was not enough of a connection for him to agree with what Kukutux had concluded.

My father left. He spat, shaking his head vehemently. As he prowled from the cover of the grass he glared after the pale woman. The boars were forgotten; they had been snuffling through the dirt and put some distance between themselves and the wolves.

Nuak wished he could do the same. Who was this woman? How could he justify what she said with what he knew? But many fathers leave, or die, and that doesn't make them all mine. No; he would refuse to believe anything else this woman told him.

Clearly this was the trick; make Nuak beholden through kindness and then try to manipulate his young mind, trick him, make him in to something he was not. The scowl on his face only further proved Kukutux' claim — the youthful, resting face of Revui returned to life.

Don't think you can replace your dead with me, witch.