backdated for 12/12-ish! few days after arriving in BV — maybe Cen ?

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the saatsine did not slow for weakness.

this, fa’liya has known. she learned it first hand during the days of migration—learned it in the way their backs never turned, the way the line of bodies kept moving like a living scar across the land. she followed anyway. leagues behind, a thin shadow stitching herself to their trail, but she followed. every breath scraped and each step burned, but that was the saatsine way of life: be strong or be left.

by the time they crested into the higher passes, her lungs were a warzone. thin air chewed at her from the inside out. coughing fits folded her frame until she had to brace her forelegs in the dirt just to stay upright. she spat red more than once—dark, rusty flecks staining the snow.

they arrived days ago. she is still not right.

she has made the outskirts of camp her nesting place, curled near a rock face that cuts the worst of the wind, far enough from the others that they would have to search if they meant to find her. powder-blue irises watch distant herds out past the forest with half-lidded eyes, chest fluttering like a trapped bird.

[the march drove them. the march sustained. one day, cen would be too old to travel as he did. he would miss his snap and therefore be forced to hand down the mantle. an ageing leader too bitter to surrender leadership was a weak creature. pride kept him from thinking overmuch of that day; he was a creature of the cold winds and the present, the ice in his teeth, the bite of snow at his nose, his eartips. his children were not immune to the drive. he had two left to him, the rest scattered or dead, and it was through this forceful walk that they were tested for the first time as lanzadoii. caan had thrived long; he had fit himself into their number and his leg did not seem to deny his ability. fa'liya was another thing. cen heard her coughing and hardened his heart. his affection was limited to survival, and though he did not turn a cruel word or stare on his daughter, he prepared himself. he told himself he must, but when another day broke and fa'liya had not rejoined them, long strides set to look for her. she was hidden among the slopes of the land. his muzzle quested along each pile of snow, though for now the chieftain did not speak.]

the march drove them. the march sustained. one day, cen would be too old to travel as he did. he would miss his snap and therefore be forced to hand down the mantle. an ageing leader too bitter to surrender leadership was a weak creature. pride kept him from thinking overmuch of that day; he was a creature of the cold winds and the present, the ice in his teeth, the bite of snow at his nose, his eartips.
his children were not immune to the drive. he had two left to him, the rest scattered or dead, and it was through this forceful walk that they were tested for the first time as lanzadoii. caan had thrived long; he had fit himself into their number and his leg did not seem to deny his ability.
fa'liya was another thing.
cen heard her coughing and hardened his heart. his affection was limited to survival, and though he did not turn a cruel word or stare on his daughter, he prepared himself.
he told himself he must, but when another day broke and fa'liya had not rejoined them, long strides set to look for her.
she was hidden among the slopes of the land. his muzzle quested along each pile of snow, though for now the chieftain did not speak.

the girl smells him before she sees him—blood and brine over snow. father. her spine tightens immediately, guardhairs rising like a porcupine raising it's quills against a threat. she drags in a breath that catches halfway down and forces it lower, slower, until the wheeze thins to a manageable rasp. her head lifts. shoulders square. she pushes herself upright in a single breath.

when cen crests into view, she does not look at him right away. her gaze fixes past him, toward the herds she had been watching, as if she has been here on purpose. as if it was vigilance and not sulking. her chest flutters beneath the effort of standing still, breath shallow and quick, but she keeps it even enough to pass.

her ears flatten then snap upright again, posture snapping into place like drilled muscle memory. powder-blue eyes flick up at him only when he nears, and it is like staring into her own reflection. father, she murmurs, tucking her chin to him in greeting.

[cen traversed fa'liya with one slate eye. daughter. she had lagged behind. now she held herself alone from their camp. he studied the girl in silence, not glancing along the line of her sight to the caribou. in time they will move again, to their birthing grounds. we must follow. at the same pace. in the same time. cen found himself watching fa'liya again, more closely. as a child he had only been allowed her blessing-moment. bereft then, of any other way to communicate, he jerked his chin at last to the herds. they are strong. their calves will be also. that time, stolen from her. the first marches and the first lung-freezing breaths of air that set a lanzadoii in trail for all time. denied. caan had found his thriving. cen refused to let himself worry for the daughter of his heart. but a note of reassurance in his voice asked the man of himself who he meant to soothe.]

cen traversed fa'liya with one slate eye. daughter.
she had lagged behind. now she held herself alone from their camp. he studied the girl in silence, not glancing along the line of her sight to the caribou. in time they will move again, to their birthing grounds. we must follow.
at the same pace.
in the same time.
cen found himself watching fa'liya again, more closely. as a child he had only been allowed her blessing-moment. bereft then, of any other way to communicate, he jerked his chin at last to the herds. they are strong. their calves will be also.
that time, stolen from her. the first marches and the first lung-freezing breaths of air that set a lanzadoii in trail for all time. denied. caan had found his thriving. cen refused to let himself worry for the daughter of his heart.
but a note of reassurance in his voice asked the man of himself who he meant to soothe.

fa’liya inclines her head once. it does not take a genius to know what the chieftain means to imply. i know it. strength is in their blood, she breathes, voice roughened by altitude and lack of breath.

another breath claws at her chest and she reins it in, ribs aching with the effort. the urge to cough is sharp and immediate. she buries it, throat burning as she forces the air back down. even if she has already made her weakness known, she will not burden him outright by allowing him to watch her suffer.

her eyes track the herd again, tracing the line of bodies as they move and graze, calves tucked close. she watches the way the mothers position themselves without thought. the automatic instinct to protect reminds the girl swiftly of her mother.

we will be ready, she adds after a moment. she is careful to reassure him without the direct promise of i. she finally looks at him then—really looks. there is no accusation in it, no plea. only the hard, tired want to be seen as sufficient. to be her father's daughter. how is iglux?

[something was wrong. cen, who had not spent overmuch time with any child, and not a daughter at all, could not perceive how he understood. unable to separate lanzadoii instinct for weakness from his paternal emotion, he stood confused and strangely worried in a way that scared him as the hooves of a caribou did not. you will come back to camp, he ordered with an abruptness borne of the same concern. iglux̂ is well. and she knows many things. i want you to see her. not as mother to daughter, but -- chieftain cleared his throat. storms will come. it will not be wise to travel fast. this place of pouring snow was warmer than the winds off the lake of ice. whatever was the matter, a longer stay might cure it. sun clan hunter shoved it from his mind. communication blurred. he watched her, then at last looked toward their herds. for the first time in recent memory, cen felt no pull to leave fa'liya's side and pursue them.]

something was wrong.
cen, who had not spent overmuch time with any child, and not a daughter at all, could not perceive how he understood. unable to separate lanzadoii instinct for weakness from his paternal emotion, he stood confused and strangely worried in a way that scared him as the hooves of a caribou did not. you will come back to camp, he ordered with an abruptness borne of the same concern. iglux̂ is well. and she knows many things. i want you to see her.
not as mother to daughter, but --
chieftain cleared his throat. storms will come. it will not be wise to travel fast.
this place of pouring snow was warmer than the winds off the lake of ice. whatever was the matter, a longer stay might cure it.
sun clan hunter shoved it from his mind.
communication blurred. he watched her, then at last looked toward their herds. for the first time in recent memory, cen felt no pull to leave fa'liya's side and pursue them.

fa'liya stiffens inwardly at the order, something tightening behind her ribs. a reflexive bracing. her ears flatten against the back of her skull; she does not wish to go, and yet she does not argue—the fight drains out of her all at once, leaving behind something hollow and sore. yes, father. she nods, obedient.

relief should come with it, and instead there is a hollowing ache, slow and mournful, as though she is something in need of mending. his words are evidence to serve. the slowing of saatsine means rest, even if it is not named as such, and her lungs ache at the idea of stillness almost as much as they do at the thought of moving again, and yet there is no alleviation to stacking pressures. she draws another breath and feels it catch, thin and shallow, the wheeze pressing at the back of her throat like a reminder she cannot outrun.

a pause. longer this time. her tail flicks once and stills again. powder-blue eyes lift back to him, damp from stinging wind. do not— it is agonizing as she says it, broken. do not make a burden of me, father. fa'liya murmurs. the words slip out before she can stop them, something sharp and ashamed. it is not an accusation—it is a plea. anger turned inward. grief with nowhere to rest. her eyes fall away from him as though her throat works hard around the rest. i know. i can walk.

[a burden. in protest, the flare of his nostrils, the heavy rumble of a caribou bull overlooking a stalwart herd. even by mentioning this, cen defied those lanzadoii spirits who worked to cull their blood as they hunted among that of the herds. what fa'liya had left was her pride, and though his tattered ears twitched in a father's refusal, the silence that followed spoke. chieftain would grant daughter the dignity for which she asked now. to trust in her ability was to see her as fully caribou as any of those in the riverlands beyond the glacier. perhaps he did not think this day would come, robbed again and again of its proceeding with each failed married and each children broken by something beyond himself, or so he had twisted himself to believe. fa'liya wore his face. how could she not move his heart? cen had built the edicts of the long march into his very marrow. but now as the only daughter left to him asked for the regard of a hunter, the faultlines of his soul shifted in tectonic pain. denial was a balm. but before he turned into its thorny shawl, a last thing; never could you be a burden, fa'liya of the sun clan lanzadoii. the band would not stop. cen would not slow them. that was why, for the next moments, he did not mind a slower journey back to their camp.]

a burden.
in protest, the flare of his nostrils, the heavy rumble of a caribou bull overlooking a stalwart herd. even by mentioning this, cen defied those lanzadoii spirits who worked to cull their blood as they hunted among that of the herds.
what fa'liya had left was her pride, and though his tattered ears twitched in a father's refusal, the silence that followed spoke. chieftain would grant daughter the dignity for which she asked now. to trust in her ability was to see her as fully caribou as any of those in the riverlands beyond the glacier.
perhaps he did not think this day would come, robbed again and again of its proceeding with each failed married and each children broken by something beyond himself, or so he had twisted himself to believe.
fa'liya wore his face. how could she not move his heart?
cen had built the edicts of the long march into his very marrow. but now as the only daughter left to him asked for the regard of a hunter, the faultlines of his soul shifted in tectonic pain.
denial was a balm.
but before he turned into its thorny shawl, a last thing; never could you be a burden, fa'liya of the sun clan lanzadoii.
the band would not stop. cen would not slow them. that was why, for the next moments, he did not mind a slower journey back to their camp.

his reassurance softens her the way that crashing waves soften dry sand. it feels perilously close to being forgiven for something she does not believe she deserves forgiveness for.

she steps when he turns, matching his pace with a rare ease. she allows herself to lean—only slightly—into the knowledge that he has chosen not to hurry her. even so, she keeps her gaze forward. the silence stretches in a way that stresses her worse.

father, a pause to suck in a shallow breath, tail tucking close against her hocks. what is.. expected of me? she does not look at him as she asks it. instead, her eyes track the snow underfoot, the places where surely many paws have passed and pressed certainty into the ground. her brother’s path is clear. everyone knows it. fa’liya has never begrudged him that, and yet she is left wanting.

the chieftain's daughter had little ambition beyond her station—she was a child born with ill-circumstance and has thus-far served little purpose to her clan. the fact gnaws at her endlessly, even if it is her own doing. i know i am not as.. able-bodied as the others, but i do not wish to sit idle.

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these two make me sick ;-;

[caan had his place, as did most of the lanzadoii. as fa'liya asked, cen recalled that even nutuyikruk had gained her footing -- even if now he was unsure of her return. aivar too, had gone away, but he felt that he had placed these things into motion. what became of them would happen now, regardless. both son and daughter had returned to the saatsine in weakness. caan had recovered while fa'liya remained delicate, tending to frail in light of the great march they must undertake. how then might he keep her safe even from the ways of lanzadoii? how then might he save her from the same ordeal through which his own mate and their own children must suffer? we have no ghost talker, he observed. we have been without one, and strong, but it is better that ice raven have a voice among us. the ghost talker did not hunt and were awarded a part of every kill. pups born of the ghost talker were not abandoned for weakness. the ghost talker might well set the pace for the entire clan. but the cost to that role came from seclusion, the demanded lengths of silence that must be sought before visions were given. it was for this reason, for the constant need of isolation and solace, that few talkers sought mates at all. remember you do not need have the same body to be part of the saatsine. look at caan. look at aivar, each bearing a weaker limb that did not discount their hunting or their power. you have a sound mind, fa'liya. be ghost talker or -- learn to change hunting for yourself. maybe you are not a running wolf. maybe you are the one who drives them in fear toward the other teeth. i will help if this you choose. cen spoke firmly but not to scold, for he was relieved to hear that fa'liya meant to apply herself, meant to look forward. he spoke to her as daughter of the chieftain, asking now to take her place at his other side.]

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me as well ;;; so much said and unsaid

caan had his place, as did most of the lanzadoii. as fa'liya asked, cen recalled that even nutuyikruk had gained her footing -- even if now he was unsure of her return. aivar too, had gone away, but he felt that he had placed these things into motion. what became of them would happen now, regardless.
both son and daughter had returned to the saatsine in weakness. caan had recovered while fa'liya remained delicate, tending to frail in light of the great march they must undertake.
how then might he keep her safe even from the ways of lanzadoii? how then might he save her from the same ordeal through which his own mate and their own children must suffer?
we have no ghost talker, he observed. we have been without one, and strong, but it is better that ice raven have a voice among us. the ghost talker did not hunt and were awarded a part of every kill. pups born of the ghost talker were not abandoned for weakness. the ghost talker might well set the pace for the entire clan.
but the cost to that role came from seclusion, the demanded lengths of silence that must be sought before visions were given. it was for this reason, for the constant need of isolation and solace, that few talkers sought mates at all.
remember you do not need have the same body to be part of the saatsine. look at caan. look at aivar, each bearing a weaker limb that did not discount their hunting or their power. you have a sound mind, fa'liya. be ghost talker or -- learn to change hunting for yourself. maybe you are not a running wolf. maybe you are the one who drives them in fear toward the other teeth. i will help if this you choose.
cen spoke firmly but not to scold, for he was relieved to hear that fa'liya meant to apply herself, meant to look forward. he spoke to her as daughter of the chieftain, asking now to take her place at his other side.