5/7/2026, 7:55 PM
Behind her sons she rolls herself out of the den, rubbing patches of coarse fur on the back of her neck, her hips. The silver spring fur is shaggy and shedding, and suspended within are small bits of leaves and earth. Smears of milk mattes her chest, though this the mother does not notice, or perhaps she does not care. Her eyes narrow, blinking, and she sniffs the morning air.
Her children appear in their own time, all with wide curious eyes in shades of fading infant-blue. They have grown like trees but they are still so small, so fragile on fickle limbs. Yaggadi stamps his paw, looking for approval. It takes a great deal of control not to shepherd him back to her breast to coo and soothe. They must belong to this cold, for she cannot protect them from the march. Iglux̂ could only be the bow from which her children as living arrows are sent forth.
Silver stands with her children in the light, taking turns to nip at the ends of black-tipped tails. She grins down at C’eghaan’s tiny squinting and extends her nose skyward.
“It is the sun, little warrior. Feel it warming your cheeks? We are saatsine: sunclan.”
Her children appear in their own time, all with wide curious eyes in shades of fading infant-blue. They have grown like trees but they are still so small, so fragile on fickle limbs. Yaggadi stamps his paw, looking for approval. It takes a great deal of control not to shepherd him back to her breast to coo and soothe. They must belong to this cold, for she cannot protect them from the march. Iglux̂ could only be the bow from which her children as living arrows are sent forth.
Silver stands with her children in the light, taking turns to nip at the ends of black-tipped tails. She grins down at C’eghaan’s tiny squinting and extends her nose skyward.
“It is the sun, little warrior. Feel it warming your cheeks? We are saatsine: sunclan.”
