muradoii rose early. Ketłina roamed nearby, working on her altars of whalebone and conquered wolf's furs. it crossed her mind at times that velkra had not taken her cream coated sister beneath the ice; the black sea simply spit her right back up.
atop a ledge that overlooked the dark sanded beach, she wove a bone charm between her teeth with pieces of wolfsfur and taut sinew. around the bound of a femur she wound it tight. pulling, carving. a small pile of bone carvings grew beside her.
the bone was from a cousin. that she carried with her through the sea. a sacred thing that she would commemorate, but eventually feed back to the tides.
it would be a quiet morning. this she deemed as truth. while the clouds bloomed overhead, natałtsa continued her steady work. wondering, if only brief, when her companion would return.

---

maybe Tugix

return to natałtsa. her instincts screamed it to her like a dying pup cries for mother. ketłina came down with sand in her coat and salt in her nose, jaw sore from holding the critter clutched in mouth.

a hare, bloodied at the neck but otherwise untouched. the pale woman padded close, did not halt until her sister could feel her breath. looked briefly at the pile of bones, the sea, and finally at her. the hare falls at the dark woman's feet.

the tides will take it clean. a pause. eat.

she sniffed the air once. salt, rot, pine. settled to sit. didn’t touch the charm, for the sake of its purity.

ketłina's return had her greyed ear twitch. tending to her bones, she smelled the blood before she saw it. rabbit. she hummed, taking the corpse from the unbridled woman and let it soak in the salt.
the sea drank its blood quickly.
she'd move to skin it.
has there been any moves of chieftains? she wondered, caught up in her own workings that she hadn't the opportunity to make herself familiar with the land. muradoii women didn't poise themselves in the comfort of men, but to guide them...yes, that is what she sought.
the black sea took as much as it gave. they sought blood, they hunger! only man could complete its bloodlust, for however unending it may be.

ketłina’s tongue ran across her teeth as her partner worked the skin free. they are south. a pause, sinew peeling.

blue eyes flicked once, briefly, toward natałtsa, then back to the carcass.

there is something in the wind. a grimace pulled at her lips. what, she could not name. she leaned back then, calloused paws lifted, and for a moment—just a moment—she tilted her head toward the sea’s groaning breath. we should not linger.