Ouroboros Spine panik

He had run himself ragged through the Neverwinter again, and in to the north, and everywhere he could think to look; but the days went on and still there was no sign of Nutuyikruk. Kigipigak even returned to the lake to see if she was there, netted by the reeds or - but, no, he found nothing. He found nothing and he had two children to keep watch over now.

How long had he been away from them? And what of Brecheliant? Kigipigak mourned by doing this work, and now that he reached the conclusion that he was to be alone as a father, and that he had failed again, and in this tremendous way, he was almost afraid to return to Akmaaksi (@Atausiq) or Tautukpik.

Yet he climbed the mountain anyway. He crossed the boundary in to the village anyway. He sought the sleeping place of @Vaire and then @Kukutux, afraid to meet their eyes, but needing to find his remaining son and daughter.

And when he came to rest, his eyes traced the shape of the Firemother in the distance, having been led there by his mindlessness and broken heart again - the same as when his own mother had died.

Another sister, dead.

The world, still turning despite the desert it would become, because cloudwater woman was gone. With her had gone the pathmaker she had only greeted distantly. And Vairë let the anger scorch her into a desert herself, refused to let the grief fester when the anger could burn. Let it burn out the rot.

Her anger swung on a pendulum, before settling on the caribou man.

In her heart, she had no doubt. It was his fault, he who brought his shadow here to harm the women of Moonglow. Had he swung his fist in anger at the mountain as he ran? Had he cursed them?

Festering, burning.

Winterhawk man.

She didn’t know what she was doing, only that her sallow face stared at Kigipigak, and her sunfire raged in her riverstone gaze.

He stood by the sprawling red tree, more gold in the present and brilliant, but he did not see the beauty there. He saw Vaire coming closer and his heart screamed, Ariadne!

And when she spoke, he was silent. He did not know what to say, and could barely look to her for a time.

When he managed words, he said in his low, roughened voice, Doe Woman. The children - ? He wondered if she had grown protective of them, or like a mother to them, in his absence - and now the absence of their lost mother.

He looked as she did. Fragile in a pointed way, like a used spear tip. She settled herself on the ground in front of him, eyes ablaze.

Safe. They visit their grandmother. Their young spirits will lift her own. That was Vairë’s wish. She licked across her jaws.

Before cloudwater woman-. She cut herself off with a vicious snap of enamel meeting.

Before, there was a man here. He beat his wife bloody in Moontide, and we held his trial. He would have died had it not been for the cousin who spoke for him. As it stands, he is missing an eye. Slowly, she turned her head to him.

He is caribou man. It is my opinion that he cast a shadow here, that stole away with the souls of two. There was a tremble to her jaw. It had to be him. Who else could it be?

The man Cen doubtlessly brought this upon our heads, and even if he is banished from here, it will not leave without his death.

Where he might have felt guilt or possessiveness over the children before, now he only felt calm; he felt nothing really, or so Kigipigak would attest — although it was objectively good that the children were a boon to the village. Even if they hurt, they would be nurtured through that hurt. He envied them that much.

Vaire mentioned a man, a trial, a curse — and this was where Kigipigak drew a heavy sigh. Of course the blame would go to spirits and magic, rather than the reality that faced the family. Of course Vaire would choose to see these things rather than face the hard truth: that something so terrible could be a complete accident.

Who was the man? He asked, not thinking; and then clarified quickly, the one found with her. In the water. He cared little for the politics of this village or the superstition that Vaire held firmly to, as one might cling to a raft as they journeyed the rapids of this fresh grief.

Who had Ariadne chosen above her children, above her village? What had she even been doing there?

Her face shuttered.

It was dismissal she saw on the face of the man who claimed to love her sister, but had taken her from here. Had drowned her culture. She knew it was unreasonable, that Kigipigak was just as grieved as she, but it was her rage that kept her from grief.

Kannoyak. He was a pathmaker. Ariadne wished to make a new village, he was assisting. All of the emotion drained from her voice in a single fell swoop.