Raven's Watch flame-farewelled

set just outside of Hearthwood

He’d walked and walked, called and called, until at last his howl was near enough to be heard by @Kukutux.

A greeting of warmth and relief quickly devolved into tears on Fjall’s behalf — his heart clearly burdened — as they embraced once again. Oh, moonwoman! The wail was plaintive, despairing, and above all, hurt. I looked everywhere for her — an entire moon’s life! — and I could not find her. Of course, he cried for Ariadne. Lost to him, more than she was lost to Moonsong. I do not understand why she did not return.

Fjall looked tearfully upon the moonwoman, his crestfallen expression screaming of loneliness and a need for her motherly guidance.

"it is because she has chosen her own way, kuppikutak," named so for how the delicate hue of his eyes reached up for her, for the sun.

for lótë, perhaps.

her heart quaked with stinging pain. sea-girl had returned to sedna, and ariadne surely had gone to be one of kigipigak's people. in her daughter grew the seeds for his revival. he would tend her and those children of moonblood, and it was only for this reason that she had not cursed his joints. where would ariadne be if she did not have a protector? sickening that man would only harm those beloved by the duck.

an arm came around the young hunter. "you are a good brother to her, strong kin, to have gone so far. sedna will bless this in you, fjall."

Her own way! Fjall wanted to wail. But…

I love her!

Instead, he sucked in a breath that stuttered wetly, as a loathsome tightening started in his throat.

The yellowpetal castaway struggled to stifle the forthcoming bodily sobs, but they were not always in his control. For a bit, he cried. That unbearable type of cry that bests you in a battle of wills. It rose quickly from his pads and rumbled up towards his ears, pouring out of him like a suppressed coughing fit.

He felt as if the glass of him had cracked and started to spill out his contents while he fumbled uselessly to stop the bleed.

He had searched until it felt hopeless, and then he had wandered until it felt suffocating. Kukutux praised him, easing his pain with her warmth and understanding, but all he could think was:

…why didn’t she take me, too?

His body shivered quietly against the moonqueen; his breaths came in sharp, staccato heaves as he fought to rein in his composure. Soon, it came. He steadied himself with thoughts of greenfire eyes.

Though his vocal cords felt unraveled, like spidersilk hairs on the wind, he righted himself and reached inside to gather enough of the loose strands to speak. What is Moonsong’s fate? he asked in a hush, eyes upon the ground.

"without a moon daughter, there is no moon. dutch will be a good leader." 

but it will no longer hold the name nuiruk.

she wondered if ariadne understood what she had surrendered, and held the weeping brother to the warm love of her chest, his pain heaving against her as if she were seacliff overlooking the long salt.

perhaps she had babied ariadne; perhaps she should have stood that day and commanded her daughter to act as leader of the village she had built.

almost did moonmother even wish that the girl had chosen chakliux! at least as a seal hunter wife she would not be lost to the reaches of the teekon.

a sigh riffled through the fur of fjall's shoulder as she at last parted them.

"there is no moon daughter. but there is a son of the moon."

the glacier might be in their blood once more, morning and moon mingled.

Dutch will be a good leader.

Fjall clung to the name in his thoughts, using it to pull his head out of the sad waters churning over him. He found that he could breathe again, though his lungs still felt waterlogged. The curiosity stronger than the hopelessness. If Moonmother still had faith, then there was something to be said of such a thing. She, after all, had seen many tragedies, seen many parts of her family come and go, and she persisted still.

As if these terrible things had made her stronger each time; added another brick to her house, given her another patch to her quilt, provided her with another fur for her hearth.

A dawning sense of awe came upon him then, and he suddenly understood why his mother loved her, and why he belonged in these lands blessed by her presence.

But there is a son of the moon.

He took a deep, shuddering breath. But it will not be the same without her, he protested still, a willful child at heart. Again that boy who had never given up on being with his mother, no matter how long they were apart. Though he spoke now of Ariadne, it was the same thing for him as with Lótë: an inability to let go of those he loved and walk his own path.

To him, his life was nothing if not in service of someone else. He hardly even knew what it was to think of himself over anyone else, let alone how to implement such a thing into his own life. I feel my spirit walk will remain unfinished until I tell her it is done… It was impossible to tell if he was still speaking of his sister or not.

it was not the same, and kukutux turned away to hear it; not in denial but in deep hurt; "oh, fjall," tones cascaded with a brilliant anguish, "i hope so much that she comes back."

of course ariadne would not, the duck believed. sons returned, but never before had a daughter scorned the nuiruk arms. and her daughters moved upon sea and mountain and glacier; their wills were iron, their minds stone.

if ariadne meant to be apart from them, she would certainly make the cutting a finished burn.

"if you find her, kuppikutak, please. tell me. in quiet," kukutux murmured. she knew ariadne would not wish her mother to know where she and kigipigak had made their village, and moonmother had no intention of speaking its name if this was not wished.

she desired only to know, to be assured that her daughter lived and that the children of her body drew strong breath.

Their separate despairs blended thread by thread into one sorrowful swathe, becoming yet another ribbon that tied them together. For eternity.

Her plea resonated through him like ripples on once-still water. I will, amya, he promised in his mother’s tongue. He embraced her quickly, once more, pulling away again to look into her mournful mirrorsea eyes. Though Kukutux was not his mother, right now he couldn’t tell the difference. He was not sure he was ever supposed to. I will.

He would never give up his search for Ariadne. He may stall in his hope, as he would find, but he would always find time to look for her wherever he went.

How do you do it? Fjall whispered, close to begging. How do you go on when the ones you love have left?

"i go on because i must, fjall," moonmother murmured, unsure of how to impart the unsaid rule that is so often only the lot of women.

and how could she do that?

his golden face was suffused with soft needing. "i turn to the spirits, my son. and to my family, to those with whom i share love."

considering; atsak.

"you are almost of an age to be husband, fjall. or to be shaman. or to be hunter. or anything you wish, son of my hearth. of my heart. put ariadne to the back of your mind for just this time. look ahead. what does your soul wish to do with the rest of your days?"

I— What did he want to do with his life? It felt impossible to think past his mother, Ariadne, now Kukutux. He’d always only lived to love them and be loved by them. He wasn’t sure who he was without their steps to guide him. He did not think he should even be married without all of them to witness and bless his union. I do not know, he finished lamely.

I thought my soul belonged with my mother… and then Ariadne. Things did not seem so complicated when they were around. I was with them, and this was enough for me. Which meant next to nothing in this moment.

Fjall shook his head. It is very hard for me to see myself when I think to the future, he admitted.