Ouroboros Spine in which death has claimed as mine

his words fall fondly onto her ears, the woman dips her own head in silent greeting to the young man.

"you are up early," she would say, though it lacked the chiding nature that most mothers would offer to see their sons up past their bedtime, "the borders call to you?" she wondered what other things called this boy, perhaps the river, perhaps his brother, perhaps those of tartok.

she'd wait for an answer and soon after introduce herself. "I am shikoba, young hunter."  she assumed with kigipigak as his father, he'd be raised with enough manners to offer his own name without the prodding of the older woman. "moonglow is strong with your family's presence." she was happy to have the others join the spine. as winter drew closer, the village would have to work hard to provide.

thankfully, there were not several mouths of children to feed for this cycle of life. perhaps next year, there would be.