Ouroboros Spine xlvvi. ringing in my head, when you broke my chest
"Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats."
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again, so sorry for the delay and my brief health hiatus! Lótë is officially my main toon now and I should have more time for her. @Adrastus this is set for immediately after ‘Those lights’, it had just gotten a bit long and it seemed like the perfect place to end it.



He returns with Shikoba to see Lótë. 

Had she been able, the morning dove might’ve taken to fluffing and preening her coat not unlike her avian doppelgänger. She felt she’d gone half mad without him and her disheveled appearance would surely belay that — not to mention that caring for their newborn children while postpartum would have surely added to her unseemly state. But the puppies were napping, mostly (the howls had caused them to stir and Vairë was fussing softly),  and the new mother was loathe to disturb them. 

Aside from her depleted energy, Lótë couldn’t find it in her to care. Adrastus was here, he was home. 

If pressed, the Gamma would have been unable to answer which was more agonizing — labor or the short stretch of time it took the duo to reach the den. But she would’ve gladly suffered the contractions a dozen times over again if it meant bringing him back. 

It was hard to catch the sound of two pairs of footfalls — one set dragging with a limp — over her racing heart but the agouti’s ears flew up when she heard them draw near. The Baptiste hardly even had a chance to be nervous and then, he was standing right there — mere paces away.

She must’ve been in shock. All she could do was stare, peridots flickering as they scanned over and over the spiritbear’s pallid, freshly scarred bulk. He was like a ghost, the figure in her dreams come to life — jarring now that he was suddenly attainable and within her reach. 

She was afraid to speak. Afraid to move, to touch. Suppose she was sleeping and he vanished again. 

“You’re hurt,” the two-year whispered at last, swallowing thickly to get the words out. Even that seemed a shriek in the silence pressing against her eardrums. 
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With tufts of fur slightly matted and dull from the stress of childbirth, Lótë appeared not as she existed in his memories, save for the purest evergreen of her gaze and the vibrant gleam that made them shine. She looked upon him without anger, much to his relief, but her concern was tangible. No doubt she had suffered sleepless nights because of his absence, and while he boasted wounds that healed, he could see that she too was in pain.

His wounds, however, were of the flesh and would heal with time. He nodded in response, regarding her with quiet reverence. "An unexpected run-in with a volley of criminals." He said softly. He didn't see fit to boast about the fact that he had tricked them, and had taken out three of their packmates in order to get away as he felt violence was a last resort, nothing to be flaunted. His gaze lowered, and softened. "I am sorry...This must have been very challenging for you."
"Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats."
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A strange guilt settled heavily beneath her breastbone. For what, she couldn't quite define -- for having suffered while he faced so much worse beyond their borders maybe, for not being stronger. "Not as much as for you, I imagine," she wisped softly, gaze falling to the pups nestled against her. She had mourned him, she had thought him dead but Adrastus had to fight his way back to her -- never knowing the entire time if she might think him lost for good, not knowing if he had children at home. 

Lótë wanted to go to him, embrace him, tend to his wounds. But a glance down again reminded her why she couldn't just yet. 

Likewise, she wanted to assure the Baptiste that she had never given up on him -- that she had always, always known he would come back. But the words -- the lies -- wouldn't come. 

As soon as her children had grown old enough and she had healed enough, she had planned to fast and sing the death songs. She had lost hope.

Again, remorse swelled into a lump in her throat that she had to force back down her gullet. 

There were more important things, however. "Come and meet your children," she urged him -- gently, despite how her tail beat against the ground. "They're all special in their own right." 
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He wondered if it was hard for her to forgive him, if she struggled with it at all, knowing she had such a strong sense of duty to her family. He'd left her so soon after making such promises to her, surely she might have doubted more than once that perhaps he'd only made promises to obtain a goal before leaving. But surely one who held a grudge so deep might not have spoken out and summoned him directly to their keep.

And when she beckoned him to see their children he nodded quietly and stepped in past the threshold so that his eye might adjust to the dim interior, where he sought out the small bodies nestled all together. He felt a twinge in his chest almost painful enough to cause him to cringe- he couldn't tell if it was guilt, or from being overwhelmed with pride.

"What are their names?" He asked.
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His nearness made her tremble, strangely enough. Lótë couldn't quite define the emotion behind it. Fear -- to have a man so close to her vulnerable younglings, that he was not real. Desire -- to hold him and never let go. Anger -- for his absence despite how unfair that was. Despair -- because she didn't know where they went from here. Somehow, things felt different. She almost felt she was at a loss for words, dumbfounded in what she should say or do now that he was back and standing only inches away. 

She turned secretive peridots to her children instead, not wanting him to see the turmoil that brewed beneath her skin. She did not want to ruin this, what should be a joyful homecoming in which she did not have to bury her husband and raise their cubs alone. 

"Lómion Baptiste," she whispered as she brushed her misted muzzle along the tiny ridges of his spine where he'd buried his face near her armpit. "It means 'Son of Twilight' in my mother tongue. He is kissed by the night."

"Vairë Baptiste, 'story-weaver'. Your firstborn daughter." She indicated her dark earthen form, planting a tender kiss against her freckled features that caused the pup to shift and sigh in her sleep. 

"Inkalorë Baptiste. It means 'top-gold'." It was fitting, seeing as the golden babe was already coated in soft blonde hair that reminded Lótë of dawn striking a field of autumn grass. She curled around them a bit more out of instinct, as if reluctant to let anyone pry at her child and gawk at their differences. "Ink is special. They are both in the body of one, male and female. Such wolves often faced difficulties in society in the Land of Many Elms but they often made great healers and spiritualists -- many were revered as mouthpieces of the spirits." The words escaped in a wisp, ears flattening to her skull as a long silence stretched, her body tensing in case Adrastus rejected the child as some men were known to do when one was born to their hearth. 

When she continued, they had but one child left. "Wilwarin Baptiste. Butterfly. She is small but strong," she demurred in soft-spoken pride, preening some of her fur aside to reveal the tiny girl of ivory where she shivered against her mother. "I expected they would all be northerners like you. But she is the only one that seems to be borne of winter...she looks like you."
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Major cringe- just know that Adrastus' beliefs and feelings are not a reflection of my own.

The babes were individuals, each uniquely marked and coloured, which might make it easier to tell them apart at a distance, he thought. His eye was naturally drawn to the palest of the litter, and he felt a teinge of pride knowing that at least one of them might turn out to look a bit kike him. The others, he suspected, pulled theirbhues from their mother's side of the family; so they would come by good looks honestly one way or another.

The first she introduced was his son who had been given a beautiful name that he felt would suit him. He would teach this boy to hunt, he thought; and perhaps he would follow his father in becoming the next Sivullik.

Another earth-toned pup was introduced, and he thought he could imagine her sone day in the circle of women, fashioning pelts into useful things, telling stories and catching the eye of all males who passed by closely enough to catch a glimpse of her. He would have to keep an eye on her suitors, for sure.

The gilded babe was introduced next and it didn't go without notice that he wasn't told immediately that the pup was a son or a daughter. So when Lótë explained, he found himself becoming confused. What made Inkalorë both male and female? Was Inkalorë built differently? His brow furrowed.  He was aware that occasionally pups were born with legs twisted, or had head trauma early in their life- and that as a wolf who came from a nomadic pack, those children were granted a swift and painless mercy so that the pack would not suffer from having to wait for one with any sort of physical problem. This....Was something different. They were not in a nomadic pack, but he couldn't help but feel that that which made the child special was-

"A defect."

There was a tone of vague disappointment in his voice. He listened as Lótë introduced the smallest of the litter, but he felt similarly about runts as he did about Inkalorë; something about them wasn't 100%. Perhaps Wilwarin might grow to catch up with her siblings, or at least blossom into soable nonetheless. His attention turned back, though, to the golden tinged child.

"How visible are its parts?" He asked quietly, calmly. "Perhaps it might be best if we raised the child distinctively as a son or daughter." He suggested, believing earnestly that it might create less confusion later on if they were able to assign just one gender identity to the pup.
"Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats."
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Her heart stopped.

Lótë had readied herself for the inevitable but somehow it still came as a shock. She actually flinched where she had lowered herself over the children. It was in that moment that the dove realized she would not, could not accept such a fate for her baby. 

The mouse's temper, so rarely seen and by none in their village thus far, reared its head in the form of bared fangs and hackles spiking from betwixt harshly pinned ears down the length of her spine. The acrid scent of her terror filled the ulaq and a rumble began to pick up in her throat like distant thunder -- in the event she should need to call for Shikoba's help. 

The dove dared not look away from him but moved to tuck the puppies closer against her, away from the spiritbear's reach. 

"They will not be prodded and poked like some cursiosity. Not 'it' -- Ink is a child of the spirits, your child nonetheless," she admonished him without shame, voice low and gravelly with barely contained venom. "If that is how you feel, then bite your tongue and go back where you came from."

She cursed silently as her pale emeralds welled up with tears. Even so, she did not soften -- remaining perched protectively over the lot of them, not trusting herself to let go of even one of the nestlings in such a vulnerable position. 

"If that's how you feel upon returning home and meeting your children then I was wrong to speak for you. You are not Adrastus -- not the one I knew."



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He was not upset when she stiffened, but sighed deeply when she unnecessarily tucked the children closer to her, as though she expected him to rip one away from her and end its life because it was different. Simply because it had been a custom when he had been growing up, did not mean he would continue on with his pack's tradition.

"Calm yourself," He sighed, but the effort was futile, and his wife raised her hackles and growled at him. Stiff-legged, standing over the children as though she faced a child-stealing coyote. He remained still, and deeply unimpressed. Inviting tension like this, while standing over the children? The mark of an inexperienced mother.

She hissed more direction at him, and an open threat which caused him to exhale a slow, dark sigh. Perhaps it was simply her hormones that were making her this irrational. He'd tolerate it for now but if this behavior persisted, he would not be interested in having children with such an unreasonable creature again.

"Wife. Do not invite a storm into the den where our children are sleeping at your feet. And do not cast me as the devil without understanding first that I have reasons for my suggestion, that are just as much about protecting our child as yours." He said. He wanted to scold her but she seemed too wound up for that. He did not like that she chose to face off against him with their children at her feet. It enticed him to want to throw her aside and chase her from the den so she could cool off, away from the babies...But that wouldn't have helped either. She was cornered- and a cornered animal would fight to the death to protect its children.

"You must understand that where I grew up, our family would have been ostracized for this. Our mateship nullified and breeding rights revoked. And the child would have been taken and mercy-killed." He said. "These are not the ways that we have here, and no harm will come to our child at our ulaq. But it exists elsewhere." He stated with a sigh, and sat down, hoping that might cause her to relax a bit.

"Puppies that are different are bullied, and adults are too. Some day, Ink will be all grown up, and will travel, and inevitably, his path will cross with someone who will hurt him for being different. Kill him, maybe; the hate is out there. Trust me." He warned. "So, we raise Ink to be strong. I suggest, we help him begin his life, being raised as a boy, so that he can defend himself better when he grows up, and if he decides...To be different."
"Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats."
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just wanted to be clear, lote was still laying down! :)

"Calm myself?" she repeated, brow twitching with indignation. "Aye, I agreed to become your wife. Because you were kind. You were thoughtful. Because you were unlike any man I had met. Never have you been less that man than you are today." And now, the cloudberry stood, dipping for just a moment to rearrange her litter carefully together in her brief absence. She stepped around their wiggling forms, placing herself some feet before them. She raised her evergreen gaze to meet Adrastus'. "Do not ever kid yourself into thinking you are my keeper just because you are my husband -- or that you have the right to order me about as such. The last man who tried that never saw me again." Her face was hard, serious. It was not a threat but a factual statement. He had no right. It was she who had carried them, brought them into this world, cared for them all while thinking he was dead -- and not even five minutes through their threshold he had the audacity to call their child a deformity, to look upon Ink and their youngest with scorn.

His words did little to settle the riled mother. Her face turned away at the harshness of it all, the violence. That he could even suggest such a thing might happen to his helpless child without flinching -- as if it were normal. As if it were just and right. It sent a shiver down her spine and tore at her heart.

"I don't care what they did in your homeland. And despite what you think, Sialuk and Shikoba were there when your children were born. The whole pack gathered to protect them. In your absence, Kukutux and Aiolos watched over me, over our children. They made it quite clear that I would always be a member of their family, a part of Moonglow, as would my children. The only one who seems to have found any dismay with the children I brought to your hearth is you." 

"I'm sorry you were disappointed. I'm sorry you see them as defective," the word was like bitter herbs on her tongue as her octaves dipped into a low, fatigued murmur -- suddenly drained and heavy with the crushing sensation enveloping her chest. "I'm sorry you came home and found we weren't good enough for you." Her lips twitched with the effort of keeping her face from crumpling either with disgust or despair. 

"I think you should leave," she told him, glancing beyond him to the doorway of the den. "I won't keep you from seeing them, as long as you can keep your negative comments to yourself. But I don't want you here." Her tired eyes seemed to plead with him not to make her call for @Shikoba and @Aiolos or any who might be near. His presence in the village was tenuous at best and even now, there was no telling what might happen if such a situation were to arise. She did not want to see him forced out, unable to see their children until they were old enough to travel beyond the Spine's borders. 



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He breathed a slow, deep sigh as she spoke out, and while he didn't respond visibly to the things she said, or turn his ears to tune her out, he ignored what she said and regarded her with placid patience, waiting for her to get out whatever she needed to say. She was clearly hysterical from her hormones. He didn't like her tone or how little she seemed to trust him, but was willing to give her as a pass as it was also a sign she was simply being a protective mother. Perhaps when she was more rational, he'd scold her then for being so rude to him. If he did now, she'd make more threats.

He tuned back in when she tried to suggest that he leave. Instead, he shook out his pelt, stood- and moved further into the den he'd dug and prepared for her. "This is my home; I will stay here." He stated simply, circling once before he settled down onto his belly. The den was spacious enough that he did not crowd her. "You are tired. I am tired, and have been through quite a lot too, which you seem to have forgotten." Only moments ago she'd been fawning over his state, empathetic about his injuried which she no longer seemed to care about. Selfish of her, he thought. If she only knew what he'd been through- but he could guilt her with that later. She didn't deserve the story right now. "I'll hunt something for you to eat once I've had some rest. For now...You should rest too."
"Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats."
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The more he spoke, the more she was sure that something awful must have happened to him. He was not the man she remembered, not by a long shot. Not the man who had spoken with her about learning to paint, bringing her colors to experiment with -- the pale shadow reappearing to speak of home, of the spirits, of life. Not the man who had walked the trails with her, admiring each other's skill in tracking and hunting despite their differences. Definitely not the man who had given her this home and offered to help her fill it with their children's laughter, paint its walls. Not the man she had known would be so proud to be a father, the one she tried to make proud when she thought she had lost him forever.

But what was even harder to believe was that he could be so callous, so disregarding. He'd called their child defective...and it didn't even seem to phase him. Worse yet, Adrastus patronized for her anger at hearing him call Ink such a horrible thing. He didn't even see how hurtful that was, to her and their pup, or care what he had done. He almost seemed annoyed that he had hurt her feelings. She had grieved him, waited for him, for months and gone through her pregnancy alone -- now all he could do was criticize the children she had birthed and her ire at disrespecting them? 

She watched him settle down, feeling dread curdle in her gut as adrenaline spiked in her bloodstream. She nearly snorted. If he thought she would be an obedient little wife and take it lying down, he didn't know his wife very well. She had left that behind long ago.

The Gamma didn't bother trying to reason with him or explain, didn't even bother to speak. It was obvious he wasn't going to listen. 

She tipped her head back and howled, summoning anybody who would answer to her aid. 

She moved between him and their children again, lying down herself and curling around the babes once more. She did not fear that he would hurt them nor take them from her side -- they were too young to be without her warmth or milk. "Keep your den. Keep your food -- we did fine when you were gone." But whether he would hurt her or not, the dove couldn't quite answer, especially with what she was about to say. It didn't matter what he did to her, she reminded herself -- though she trembled anew, an old muscle memory maybe, ready and waiting for any pain that might come. He wouldn't hurt them. He might be able to drive her out if he hurt her enough but the village was coming. They had been reluctant to allow him into the territory as it was; if he did attack her, they were likely to chase him out. That alone might hold him at bay. 

"The others will help me move them to my old ulaq next to Kukutux's. Stay away from there until you can learn some manners."

She had been wrong in assuming his death alone would destroy her. It was this that would, however it ended up, already she longed to be far away from him -- secluded in the silence of her former dwelling and its cheery walls with her children, where no one could hurt them. Where she could break down and mourn him all over again without the fear of a judgmental sigh punctuating her pain.

i know that this is an older thread and the ranks have changed somewhat but gonna go ahead and tag everyone following this development. @Kukutux @Shikoba @Sialuk @Foxfur @Aventus @Kigipigak

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PPing kigi along & assuming aiolos would come too <3

kukutux tried not to dwell on what went on in the house of her sister. all that mattered was that adrastus had returned, and been dutiful to she and their children. he had seemed hurried enough at the borders.

when the cloudberry woman's call came, it was for help. 

moonwoman lifted her head. "sialuk, stay with your sisters." the cry had come from the direction of the ulaq her sister shared with her husband.

kiggavik fell into step quietly alongside her as she moved toward the sound. her sun man too would not remain behind, and it was between them that kukutux came to the hearth of adrastus and lótë.

there was a tenor of anger and grief in the air. the duck glanced first to the cloudberry woman and then to her children, to where the mother wrapped herself tightly around them.

"lótë," she said softly, though worry and confusion were written upon her face. "we have come to help you." she looked at the pale shadow where she thought adrastus might be

she did not invade the darkness of their den, not yet. "if there is anger between the both of you, then do not stay, sivullik." her voice was drawn, but this was the way of women. this was her way. if lótë wished to stay, then adrastus must leave. this was the ulaq of his wife. it was where she had lived alone and birthed their children without him. 

"what will you do, sister?"
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Rather than be rational, his wife chose to sing out and proclaim her hysteria to the world. Adrastus did not roll his eyes as it wasn't something he typically did- but he felt the sentiment of skepticism within. He did not interrupt her, nor did he budge. Like an ice-pale statue, he remained where he was and quietly began to clean a healing wound on his leg, paying her little mind as she fearlessly prattled on about taking the children away. A moment ago she had said she would allow him to be with the children so long as he adopted his point of view- and he did not like being manipulated. Now, she was forbidding him from seeing them. She commented on his manners.

One eyebrow raised.

If he knew the expression of the pot calling the kettle black, he might've quoted it.

Still believing her to be over-emotional from both his return and the childbirth, be remained where he was, aware that others would show up soon. Probably the fiery female who had met him and nearly lunged at him at the borders. Such high tempers there were here now. Perhaps it was the influence of the male Kukutux had taken as her mate. Perhaps it was simply because Kukutux too had had children, so tensions were running high. He had no idea, he had no context. But he wasn't going to get into a tizzy about it.

He took one moment to speak to her, quietly, knowing others would arrive shortly. He spoke with the same, evergreen calm of a towering sequoia which refused to shake and tremble in the wind.

"You'll feel differently once you've had rest and food, Lótë. This must all be very overwhelming, but making a snap decision and taking our children away, pushing me away...Do what you feel, if you must. Your own guilt will prey upon you once you've had a chance to realize what you've done."

And how swiftly Kukutux empathized, with no context, with Lótë simply because she had been the one to call out. Their bond had obviously drawn them closer in his absence, a bond he felt betrayed the connection he himself had had with Kukutux. It seemed he was being judged without being given any opportunity to be rational. And it wasn't the first time Adrastus frowned, internally, upon Kukutux's choices and leadership skills.

She didn't barge in, which was appreciated- though he did wish that perhaps she could see how calm and quiet he was, whereas his wife had her hackles raised. She was the one who reeked of anger and fear. He on the other hand- the scent of his own, stale blood which he was trying to clean from his wounds, and the scent of fresh air. He didn't feel the need to be defensive.

Kukutux told him he ought to leave- but he was willing to give Lótë the opportunity to rescind her desperate plea for help. He was not angry- Lótë was. It was her energy that would be harmful for the pups if she continued to be so wildly emotional. So he waited patiently in the quiet and dark, for her to come to reason and take the advice her husband gave her.
"Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats."
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She ignored him. If he thought it was a matter so simple as food and sleep -- as if she did not spend much of her time napping with her young as she recovered, as if Moonglow had not helped her -- then there was nothing more to say. 

Lótë just waited, eyes resolutely locked on her children until Kukutux arrived with Aiolos and Kigipigak, heart pounding in her ears the whole time. Relief crashed through her like the waves breaking over her paws that day on the beach. "I would like to be with my family," she murmured, feeling small -- a burden -- and hating it. "Adrastus has made it clear that this hearth belongs to him. I do not want it."

"I do not belong to it. Nor to you," she told him softly, tiredly, emeralds flickering to him only once as she stood. 

"He has found my children, one of them anyways, to be...unsatisfactory," she did not care to inflect any tone upon the words, did not look in anyone's direction, clinging carefully to any shred of composure she had left. Her child deserved a voice to speak strongly for them, not to warble with tears. "And the idea that I would love and accept my child for who they are is unreasonable and irrational." 

"Would you all help me move them to my previous den?" she glanced to them all then, green eyes flitting between the trio briefly before returning them to her pups. Shame filled her. Not for her child but for her husband.

How ironic that he should be the exact bully he feared would harass her child.

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adrastus was indeed quiet. his silence was the growl of a drum behind the frenetic energy surrounding her sister. and it was not a sound she had ever sensed in his spirit. something had changed adrastus while he was away. the man who had left them was devoted to moonglow. the man who had come back now brought the cloudberry woman to tears again.

it was not her place to know the words they had shared. but lótë gave them all the same. kukutux listened steadily as the story of what had happened was shared: adrastus claimed this place as his own, and saw that the gods had unmade one of their children.

"if the qualupilik has changed one of your children, it is for a reason. twice it touched mine. kausiut too, has been given less." it was the first time she had spoken aloud of it to another, and her voice shook a moment, but moonwoman gathered herself.

"and the man who was sivullik would not dare to put words against a child of my own." so long as adrastus did not speak, kukutux would draw her own conclusions. "we will help you." the greenstone eyes turned toward the darkness, no harder than before. confusion still was writ onto the scarred muzzle.

"brother. speak to the men in the village. speak to me." but as she faced toward the shadows where the man was quiet, moonwoman motioned for her kinsman to come forward and take whatever child lótë would hand to him. young ones belonged to their mothers first. a man became a father truly when he was able to teach. and at this hearth, in this time, the duck did not think such strife would teach good things.

struggling between the overstep and the want to turn away, to leave them to their own finding, she straightened. more words came to her but she did not speak them. the silence would stretch until the others had begun to turn away and she would go with them, bearing one of the cloudberry wolf's children to their first ulaq.
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Irrational. She would feel guilty within days, he was sure of it. Forbidding him from seeing his children? Not as much of a punishment as she might have thought, considering the fact that one of them had a defect. They had also been given names that weren't anything like what Adrastus would have named his children. So other than their surname- which he felt would likely be stripped of them- and their genetics, they weren't much to him.

Twice, it seemed, bad genetics had come into play in Kukutux's family and his lips turned down. Another one this year? So one of Kukutux's children from this year's litter had a defect as well? Well. This was as much of a sign as any that the pack was unhealthy. He should have known better than to follow Kukutux, the woman who believed that wolves were spirits if they returned to the pack a few days after being mourned. The woman who took the likes of a man like Raimo into her Hearth so desparately.

Seemed to him, then, that the worth of the wolves on this place had truly been shown. "Travel safely," Adrastus said, before he settled down onto the coveted lynx pelt, and continued cleaning his wounds, demure and patient as he allowed whoever volunteered to come forth and take away the batch of spoiled children and their mother with them.
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#17
she has left only for a moment to allow the couple to rehash what was lost. but the beckoning call of löté brings the native to the ulaq once more, but this time there is no peace within her heart. hackles on edge with a sickening snarl towards the man, but nothing is said from her. venomous sulfur eyes stare him down with a clear message: say anything else or make the wrong move and you'll have your tongue ripped out.

she is silent, hearing what is desired by löté and what is decided by the ex husband as well as the moon woman and her kinsman. with all seemingly said and done, shikoba brushes her nose against the shoulders of both women of the circle and a gentle nod of the head towards the backbone of moonglow. a quiet sign that she is there, present, and ready to help. soon, she reaches to take a puppy, as gently as the woman can muster.

when all is said and done, when she turns to leave, a final burning glance is given to adrastus. good riddance to the man who left his pregnant wife alone and comes back only to demand the best rather than be grateful they are here. should she be given any further instruction, this could be the last time she sees this man. that is, unless she searches for his blood once he leaves.
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"Cold smoke seeping out of colder throats."
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#18
She empathized with Kukutux -- who was quite clearly at a loss. But she had no words she could offer beyond what had already been said, an explanation that might settle some of the bewilderment etched into her wide eyes of spring grass. The herd-stalker gave only a minute shake of her head, ears flattening without glancing back as her husband washed his paws clean of them all. It felt an oblong, sharp shape of darkness had pressed between her lungs, the organs pinching as she drew in a great breath. It shone in her borealis gaze, seeming to promise there was more than what she had revealed -- seeming to relay that reasoning with him was useless. It didn't seem Adrastus had anything more to say: to her, the men he was supposed to lead, or even the Moon. 

She offered Shikoba a small nudge in return, a whisper of gratitude as she offered Vairë to the pheasant. Lómion to Aiolos. And Wilwarin she entrusted to Kukutux alone -- fragile as the butterfly was. She would carry Ink, particularly protective of them in that moment, and could only hope the Alpha's kinsman would not be offended that she had not chosen to let him carry her child. It was nothing personal but emotions were running high admittedly and she trusted her children in the hands of her sisters and brother-in-law over any other. His presence was reassuring, even if she did not know Kigipigak well, regardless. 

The dove did not look back as she left the spiritbear to his claim and his wounds -- hoping bitterly for a moment that they festered and left him with an impairment of his own. She tried only to look ahead as she fell into step with her kin, ignoring the way the trail occasionally blurred as her eyes stung and smarted.
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