summer has been kind to the caribou. their calves have grown bold enough to stray from their mothers, though never so far that a sharp bleat cannot summon them back. fa’liya watches one such calf investigate a particularly stubborn patch of wildflowers, its narrow muzzle disappearing among the blossoms.

she has been here since morning, content to spend what little strength she possesses in their company. the herd seldom requires anything of her, and there is a peculiar comfort in being permitted to exist without expectation.

the calf discovers her soon enough. it approaches with the graceless curiosity of the very young, stretching its neck to investigate black fur. its mother watches from several paces away, untroubled. it is this small exchange that occupies the girl when another presence disturbs the grasses behind her.

fa’liya obliges with a patient lowering of her head. hello, little one.

---

backdated heavily! early summer. for Yanggadi Saghani

Yanggadi Saghani walked through the forest, thoughts wandering as he did so. He was remembering where he buried a particularly interesting stone. It was one that was formed into a strange swirling circle towards the middle, ribbed. He was perplexed by the shape, having never seen anything like it. It was…animal like, but not like any animal he had seen.

As he moved, remembering trees, stones, and bushes, he saw the herd not far off in the field. Ah yes, he knows this tree, with the weird crook in the corner. It should be 5 trees to the right. He loped forward, counting the trees, and finding the very spot he buried his treasure. He dug, and quickly unearched the thing. As he snatched it with his mouth, the movement of the small caribou caught his attention, and it was then he saw Fa’liya.

Yanggadi Saghani trots over, the calf engaging while the mother watches on. Yanggadi Saghani narrowed his eyes. He wondered why the mother did not engage. They ate the caribou. Was she stupid? Yanggadi Saghani blinked, looking now to Fa’liya, dropping the odd stone (an ammonite).

”Why do they trust you when you eat them?” he asked bluntly, tail swishing behind him as he watched them carefully.

the calf startles at the sound of something striking the earth, withdrawing its muzzle from her fur with a little snort. fa’liya watches it retreat toward its mother before turning to regard the newcomer. she recognizes him readily enough, although the recognition brings with it a small, unpleasant tightening in her chest that has little to do with her usual afflictions.

she recognized him, however loosely; another of her father's children, born of his new wife. one whose womb had evidently been far kinder than her own. she studies him for a moment, taking in his easy posture and the careless vigor with which he has approached. she knows it is an ugly thing to begrudge a child his health, particularly one who has done nothing to deserve her resentment, and nevertheless the feeling persists.

hello, yanggadi, she offers, remembering her manners somewhat belatedly. her pale gaze returns to the calf, who has already forgotten its fright and resumed investigating the flowers.

because they know me, she answers after a moment. i do not hunt them. the explanation seems rather obvious to her, though she supposes it might not be to someone who has never spent much time among the herd.

her attention drifts toward the peculiar stone he has deposited in the grass. she tilts her head, curious despite herself. what is that?

The calf leaves at the sight of him, and with this he is not surprised. He does no hesitate nor slow his pace, as is his right.

Red touched eyes narrowed, and his lips twitched. ”It is Yanggadi Saghani,” he corrected without hesitation. He knew not why everyone wanted to shorten his name, which became meaningless when done so. It was not something he would tolerate. But she gets a pass this time.

Her explanation made some sense. She didn’t hunt them, and he looked at her form. He quickly grew larger than her without even being a full adult yet. His strength was already surpassed hers, he was sure of it. Why did she not hunt them, he wondered? Even if she only stood to direct them one way or another, everyone had a use. Regardless, his point still stood.

”You still eat them,” he rebutted. So she gets the benefit, not to hunt, not to be feared, but still eats their flesh? Perhaps it is the advantage of being the ghost talker. There could be benefits to a wolf that caribou are not afraid of. He would have to ask father sometime.

His attention diverts to the odd stone, and he picked it up again. He lay across from her now, and dropped the thing between them, a paw smacking it a little.

”I found it in the rocks. It is unlike any rock I have seen. There were…little…holes that looked like this as well, but it was in a rock too large to carry. What might it be?” he asked with a tilted head. The ammonite, which was a name he did not know, was shaped in a spiral, and this particular specimen was dark and smooth, with bits of regular rock stuck to it here and there so that it is not a completely intact fossil. Fa’liya is a ghost talker, one who knows things. He had come wondering, does she know this?

the correction earns a small inclination of her head. yanggadi saghani, she repeats, carefully this time. she had not intended any offense, although she finds herself faintly bewildered by the insistence. nevertheless, she supposes he is entitled to his preferences, and she has little interest in quarreling over something so inconsequential.

yes. i eat them, she concedes, without any particular shame. but i do not chase them. they have learned that i will not hurt them. whether they understand the distinction beyond that is another matter entirely. she has never thought to ask, and doubts they would have much to say on the subject if she did. the herd knows her scent, her voice, her weakness. perhaps that is enough. they are not stupid, she adds, almost defensively.

her attention returns to the stone as he settles opposite her, and she leans forward to examine it. the spiral is peculiar, its ridges following one another inward until they disappear into a little hollow at the center. she has seen snail shells arranged similarly, though never one so large, nor one made of something quite so substantial. with the careful application of a forepaw, she turns it slightly, inspecting the underside.

i do not know, she admits eventually. it is an unfortunate answer for someone whose responsibilities involve interpreting the otherwise unknowable, but she has never claimed to understand every peculiar thing the earth produces. it looks like a shell. perhaps something lived inside it once, long ago. she considers the possibility for another moment, wondering what manner of creature might have possessed such a curious little house. there is something rather melancholy about the thought of it surviving only as a stone.

He nodded, pleased that she said his whole, complete name without hesitation. All is forgiven, though he still does not understand the point of a name for so many to call him something else. Fa’liya was not the first, and most certainly was not going to be the last from his current experience.

There was thought behind his eyes, like he was trying to figure out multiple things at once with her comments. He is not completely satisfied with the answer, the intrusive thoughts he often had of violent caribou flashing through his head for a moment. But when she said they are not stupid? A brow lifted, not in contention exactly, but in curious thought. ”Would you hang around someone who would eat you, even if they do not give the killing blow?” he asked, however adding on, ”I think it good they like you.”

A woman on the inside. Perhaps this is why she is the ghost talker, and perhaps this is why he could never be.

He lets them know he would eat them. Fa’liya hides the fact to gain their trust. An interesting lesson he learned this day.

The true reason for his approach was this odd stone though, one unlike any other he had seen. A tug of a frown tempted his lips when she said she did not know of it. He had hoped she had some wild explanation, but instead, both were stuck with the mystery of it all. She mentioned a shell, and he tilted his head one way and then the other as he observed it carefully. He had not seen many shells yet, only a small, small amount, and indeed, they were also very small things, the ones he saw. This was much larger.

”Living inside?” he questioned, his mind running wild with such an explanation. ”There are things that live with…hardness around them?” he inquired, wondering about the armors other creatures may naturally come with…the excitement! The disappointment in knowing he does not come with such hardness to protect him!

his question gives her pause. she had not considered the arrangement quite so plainly, although she supposes there is some merit to his reasoning. the caribou are prey, and she is a predator, however poorly suited to the occupation. still, she finds herself unwilling to entertain the suggestion that their trust is misplaced. perhaps, she says, if i knew they would not hurt me. it is a rather simple answer to a question she suspects he intended to be considerably more difficult. her gaze wanders toward the grazing cows, lingering upon one whose antlers have begun to grow broad and impressive beneath their summer velvet. they come to me. i do not make them stay.

she does not think it necessary to explain herself further, particularly when yanggadi saghani has already found something else to occupy his thoughts. his enthusiasm is rather infectious, in its own peculiar way. fa’liya watches him turn the stone over with attentiveness, and a smile threatens the corners of her mouth.

yes. have you seen a snail? she asks, lifting her muzzle toward him. little creatures, with shells on their backs. they come out when it rains. if you touch them, they hide inside. she remembers finding them beneath damp leaves as a pup, their little bodies soft and terribly vulnerable beyond the protection of their shells. she had never thought to eat one, although she knew others who did. turtles have shells, too. very hard ones.

but this rock does not resemble the shell of any turtle, and the comparison to a snail seems increasingly inadequate the longer she studies it. whatever lived within must have been rather different from the creatures she knows. perhaps it swam, or crawled along the bottom of some old river. she wonders how long it has lain beneath the earth, waiting to be discovered by a boy who would not have known what to make of it.

perhaps it lived in water, she muses. before it became stone. the possibility pleases her, though she cannot say why. she extends a forepaw to touch one of the little ridges, tracing its curve with a careful claw. i think it is very old indeed. older than you or me. perhaps even older than your father. there is a faint humor in the suggestion, and she glances toward her brother to see whether he appreciates it. he is so much larger than she remembers, although she supposes that is simply what healthy children do. they grow. the thought leaves a familiar sting of bitterness upon her tongue, which she swallows before it can spoil their conversation.

you should keep it, she tells him. i think it is a good thing to find.

Her thought process was strange. He does not think he would hang around those who may eat him, but who eats the wolves? Nothing that he knows of. But there is truth to her words, they do come to her, and though he questions their intelligence for doing so, he found advantage in it, so decided to pay no matter to it anymore.

She mentioned then a snail, a thing that he had indeed seen before. He had not thought too much on the creature so far, but considered what she said. Their shells did look rather similar to this stone, though much, much smaller. His head tilted and he gave a nod. ”Maybe they looked like snails, but very large,” he imagined, though wondered how sticky they would be.

”True, shells without their turtle…may look odd,” he considered, his mind still trying to figure out exactly what kind of creature made this and would have lived in it. He watched as his sister traced the form

”Water? Have you spent much time by the ocean?” he inquired, wondering if she had great knowledge of the water creatures. He knew mildly of fish, but not that much. How anything lived in the water without drawing breath…well, it was mysterious to him. The mention of the age of the thing, he also felt it had to be old…but he couldn’t understand why exactly. He snorted with amusement. ”Old indeed,” he commented, flipping the stone over.

”I will keep it. Let me know if you find any others, we can compare them,” he suggested. ”I must go bury it now,” he hopped up, allowing her a final look of the thing before he found it a home.