Ouroboros Spine old habits die screaming

While there were many wolves to whom Asivaq owed an apology, she started with @Vairë. After all, there had been promises that she'd failed to keep, life events she'd missed, and, ultimately, she recognized that her sister was one of the individuals she'd let down the most.

Asivaq approached Vairë's den with a rabbit hanging from her jaws. When she was close enough to the ulaq's doorstep, she paused and kept to the side of the entryway. Vairë? she whispered into the den, unaware if the children were sleeping and hoping to find her there. Are you there?

Instead of the wheaten woman, the first thing out of the den was a brown nose. Followed closely by a brown muzzle, then the rest of the cream colored pelage, Lightfoot tumbled out of the dirt packed entrance to land with a sharp uff!

Ikniqpalagaqï! The hiss echoed from below the ground, before Vairë herself appeared to grab for her daughter to pull her back into the den. Then, she caught a glimpse of ginger out of the corner of her eye and instinctively stiffened.

…cloudwater woman. Moondoe greeted, voice trembling and yet flat at the same time. Lightfoot, who had none of the niceties, screeched a plaintive noise. Vairë hustled her daughter back below the ground, before she reappeared.

What has brought you so far out?

First, a child tumbled from the den, followed by her mother's voice. Asivaq watched in silent amusement, thinking of @Malguk, who often escaped from the ulaq. Vairë then poked her head out of the den, and the sight of her stole Asivaq's breath; she was just as beautiful and strong as she remembered. She was instantly intimidated.

You have brought me out here, she replied once she placed the rabbit at her paws and nudged it towards the den. I ... she hesitated, feeling the weight of the other woman's stare, Wanted to apologize ... for everything, and to give this to you and the children. She swallowed hard, ears falling back as she sunk onto her belly, dropped to one side, and showed her belly in a way of respect.

I have failed many—you included.

As they sat, Vairë looked over her sister. Still young, but a mother now in her own right. Part of her wanted to soften, wanted to open her arms just as anaa did, embrace her sister and all the hurts and let them go. It was the rest of her that was the problem, wrapping her heart in a spiked shell, keeping her mind and emotions distant.

I have many questions. She said in reply, instead of accepting the apology, because she could not in good faith accept it quite yet.

Perhaps most pressing. She leaned forward, as if to whisper a secret.

Why? In her voice, all she could hear was a child’s cry, a new mother’s weeping, and the silent hurt she carried on her shoulders felt almost physical.

which meant much to Asivaq. What came instead of rejection cut much deeper than she'd anticipated, and she winced and frowned, sensing the hurt that followed the weighted question.

"Why?"

Stupidity and hurt, honestly, she answered. Anger poisoned my spirit and made me a fool. She'd been a fool in love, angry against the family who failed to see what she had in Kigipigak. I was so upset that nobody respected my decision to marry Kigipigak. I thought I was better off alone with him than with my family. I was wrong. I should have tried to fix things instead of just making them worse. She shook her head and began to study her paws, noticing how they had grown tired and cracked, too.

Anger had gotten them both here. Vairë, her sister, and the gulf between them. Unsaid words rolling like snake coils in the dark. Here, she would define herself. Here, Vairë considered, was where she would determine the kind of moonwoman she would be. Gentle moonmother, or boarish warwoman.

Vairë watched her sister, letting the silence stretch between them. A thousand things she could say in that moment, and she said none of them.

What did you learn from this? Her voice was surprisingly gentle, a question she had poised many times to her own children. The lessons learned by children and by adults, and now Vairë posed a question once asked to her to her sister.

"What did you learn from this?" Vairë asked after a pause.

Asivaq blinked, genuinely surprised by the question, but did not further betray her shock. Many things, she answered honestly. But, I think the main things were ... do not decide anything while you're angry, try to remedy things instead of running away from them, and ... don't run away without a word—that was my worst mistake. Especially after making promises to be around!

Tears began to blur her vision, and she began to blink and wipe them away. My last biggest lesson ... be there for your family as much as they are for you.

Vairë listened with a silent, still face. She may as well have been stone.

Then, she sighed, and let the tension flow from her body.

I will not lie to you, cloudwater woman. I find I cannot. She rose her gaze to meet her sister’s.

I am half the woman our anaa is. I am ashamed of it, but I live with it. There is want in me to forgive you, and for us to move on. But the part of me that is angry, she speaks loudest right now. She says you have meant to hurt. She is not rational in this, but she is loud. Here, she turned pleading.

I ask that, in this, you give me time. In time, she will quiet, and I will walk that bridge between us with open heart and wide arms. Until then, I do not know.

Vairë replied truthfully, and Asivaq admired her all the more for it, even if it hurt. I understand. She mustered when she found her words again, and the pain was evident on her face. Thank you for telling me the truth.

She pushed herself onto all fours, tucked her tail at her hocks, and dipped her head before speaking again. I will wait as long as you need—I will be here when you're ready. Whether or not Varië believed her was an entirely different question, but it wasn't hers to speak to.

I can go ... if you'd like. Or stay—whatever you want me to do.

She was silent.

There was so much she could say, so much she could hurl. Accusations and hurtful words, sly side comments, pointed aggression like a spear. She could whirl them over her head like rocks in a slingshot, she could hurl them where it would hurt.

Vairë did not. She just sat, a silent, still statue of a woman. Old Doe’s breath ghosted across her shoulder.

You should demand her weep. Beg. Crawl. The matron growled in her ear with prey animal viciousness. Moondoe flicked her ear to dismiss the aggressive apparition of her totem.

Please. Stay. She gestured with her paw.

Tell me what you saw. What you experienced. What was your favorite part?

There was silence before Vairë spoke. Asivaq waited patiently, allowing her sister all the time she needed to decide what she wanted. When asked to stay, she nodded, let out the breath she'd been holding, and felt an immense surge of gratitude. She would not take this for granted, knowing her sister wasn't obligated to do this.

There were many different places I saw, sister, Asivaq began, remaining on the floor with her belly exposed. I saw the north—there were many mountains and snow. The wolves there were fierce, and the prey was scarce. I could not imagine living there. I did not like it. She grimaced at the thought. I do not understand their ways. I tried to, but everybody seemed impersonal, and the wolves cared for each other at arm's length. But even though she didn't understand, she still respected the lives they'd made for themselves. They were Kigipigak's people, after all. I was given challenges at the Tartok camp we stayed at, and they were all very challenging ... somehow I came out of it with all my fur still intact! She laughed! She'd never been much of a fighter, and she was still amazed that she'd completed the tasks to become Issumatar.

Then, we went south and found the most beautiful forest I have ever seen. That is where we claimed our village and where I birthed our children. It was peaceful, but many bad things happened there. I think that it's cursed. A chill ran up her spine as she recounted this. It took my son. It scared away all the right wolves and drew in ones who only looked for trouble. She thought of the pack that'd settled next door with a bad taste in her mouth. But I think my favorite moments were spent with my children when the forest was kind and time moved slowly.

Which reminded her: Isn't motherhood amazing? She had new nieces to learn about!