A vigilant eye watches the clash from Fa’liya’s perspective, ears oscillating between the battle below and all the subtle stirrings which lurk in the wood around them.
She nods, pressing her voice closer to the girl’s ear. “The victor wins rights to the harem, and he will go on to sire the year’s fawns. It is the caribou way of ensuring only the strongest traits are passed on. It flows into their meat, their flesh and hides, and thus into us. Our bones. Our blood, and we in turn grow stronger for it.”
The bulls grapple again, but the fight is waning. The reigning stag is more beautiful than any Iglux̂ had ever seen. She can feel him, devoted to endurance. Unburdened by complexity.
The child’s nearness still feels strange, yet Iglux̂ secretly craves it, most of all when she isn’t looking. When Fa’liya is wholly absorbed in the life around her, the silver aches to draw her close and glimpse the world once through blue eyes. The huntress’ lips press together and she averts her eyes from the obsidian profile
“Yes, raven-girl. Survival often hurts.” It is something Fa’liya has already learned.
Heaving, the weaker bull rests. If he survives the night, he will fall to saatsine tomorrow. Dark eyes flare. “What do you think, shall we hunt today? Or, I can show you something new.”
She nods, pressing her voice closer to the girl’s ear. “The victor wins rights to the harem, and he will go on to sire the year’s fawns. It is the caribou way of ensuring only the strongest traits are passed on. It flows into their meat, their flesh and hides, and thus into us. Our bones. Our blood, and we in turn grow stronger for it.”
The bulls grapple again, but the fight is waning. The reigning stag is more beautiful than any Iglux̂ had ever seen. She can feel him, devoted to endurance. Unburdened by complexity.
The child’s nearness still feels strange, yet Iglux̂ secretly craves it, most of all when she isn’t looking. When Fa’liya is wholly absorbed in the life around her, the silver aches to draw her close and glimpse the world once through blue eyes. The huntress’ lips press together and she averts her eyes from the obsidian profile
“Yes, raven-girl. Survival often hurts.” It is something Fa’liya has already learned.
Heaving, the weaker bull rests. If he survives the night, he will fall to saatsine tomorrow. Dark eyes flare. “What do you think, shall we hunt today? Or, I can show you something new.”
