silatuyok followed like cloud follows breeze— quiet, soft of foot, letting the ginger boy’s words fill the air between them. his voice was light, unburdened, and she listened with a patience that had been carved into her from stone and distance.
she did not interrupt. not when he veered away from the dens. not when he spoke of mothers and mice. not even when he mimicked solemnity with a child’s grin hiding beneath it. she let him speak, as the wind let the river sing.
but her dark eyes watched all the same. watched the tilt of his ears. the flick of his tail. the weight of his frown.
you will, she said at last, after a pause had found them. her voice was low, warm as worn leather. learn. when your legs know the ground. when your breath matches the herd’s.
a pause, as her gaze lifted to the trees. they are not just strong. they are watchful.
silatuyok stepped beside him, then, letting her body speak the rest. calm. open. ready.
when you are, we will hunt one.