whatever had changed between last night and this morning, akiak didn't acknowledge it. he didn't pick and prod, even if it stung just a little to be met with the girl's frostbite. thank you. sheepishly, he murmurs to her, voice taut and hoarse as if it had been ripped from him too. first, he ate her herbs, sick as they made him. that throbbing pain of his other half returned, tensing his brows and the tender flesh now exposed to air. oh, but how it itched. how tight the skin was, his instincts wished to scratch at it, to rip it loose again. but better judgement told him not to, finding solace in ripping the herbs and chewing before moving to the fawn.

unlike ishmira, akiak wasn't as worried. what more could they take from them? their lives? what lives?
well. ishmira had one waiting for her. that was enough, then, to steer clear of saatsine's march. he'll return ishmira with her family — back to her life — and figure out from there where his life will lead, if there was even still a trail left.