The pelts were filthy. It was well past time to replace them, but that would take time. To stretch her muscles, and attempt to return her body to its state before pregnancy, the woman was out searching for prey. A good hunt would do her well. Time away from the pups was welcome, as much as she hated to admit it. Thus, she descended into the valley. There was less snow, and more foliage. Squirrels and rabbits were more abundant. Perhaps there were some weakened does about.

Skull slung low between her narrow shoulders, the new mother stalked through the valley. The stunted trees offered little cover, and the skeleton shrubs could only break up her form as she moved. Regardless, she hunted. Fresh scents flooded her nostrils. There were no deer in the area. The winter was too new, too harsh. She grumbled to herself, a few mild curses in her native tongue. Alright, so she might have to seek out something smaller. Charcoal paws pushed easily through the snow, unfazed by its density. This was a wet snow. Further north there might actually be fresh falls, which were rare.

A dead bird lay frozen, half buried by the loose precipitation as the breeze blew it this way and that. Sniffing cautiously at it, she wondered if it was worth bringing back. No, it would barely be a meal for Dom, if she could manage to flake away the frozen meat with her milk teeth. Sighing, she buried it the rest of the way with her forepaw. Marzanna would keep it safe until spring, where the cycle of life would ferry it onwards.

"Говорить"

Darya was being bad right now, she knew that and even as she thought about it she pulled her ears back but, well, she was curious to see where mama was going! So the girl snuck as stealthily as possible after the white woman, which on her own wouldn't have been stealthy at all but luckily the snow helped to mute her clumsy waddling. She stopped when her mother stopped, freezing so that she doesn't see her. Though as the snow became thicker and wetter the pup found it harder to keep pushing forwards, the snow sticking to her limbs and chest. She watched her mother bury something under the wet covering and curious the girl stopped to dig it up again. 

Tiny paws uncovered a frozen bird and Darya felt tears springing to her eyes. It was just like the deer her father had brought them a little bit ago and the girl felt her chest constrict. She didn't like the cold, stillness that set in on the animals her father brought them. Darya stared down at the unmoving thing, tears falling upon it's frozen corpse. When the pup finally lifted her gaze her mother had dissipated from view and the girl felt a new emotion overtake her. 

Fear. 

The girl, cast her teary gaze around wildly trying to find her mother's form. She couldn't! Lips quivering, ears pulling back and tail tucking Darya began to cry again. A high terrible wail pulling from her lungs with more force than one might expect from such a relatively tiny wolf. 

Art by Risketch

In the snowy wilderness, a shriek of fear rose up into the air. Tall auds swivelled in search of the source, crown sweeping the area until she located it. It struck a chord, and the woman realized it was her child. Gods above. Lengthy pillars stretched into long strides as she loped towards her little one. Darya had a very distinct voice, and the new mother was on edge at the sound of her. Why was she so close? Had she fallen? Broken her neck, even? There she was up to her knees in snow. Tucked into the smallest version of herself the little girl could manage, she was crying awfully. Concern and fear of her own mixed on the woman's face. "Дарья, моя милая," She crooned, daring to loom over the minuscule form of her daughter. One broad paw would extend, seeking to scoop the tiny body to herself. She would hope to press her daughter towards her other forelimb, crown low to sniff at her, seek out hurt that has befallen her. "Что ты делаешь так далеко от дома, маленькая тень?" She murmured, aiming to nuzzle her behind her right ear. "speech"

"Говорить"

Almost within seconds of her horrible wail leaving her lungs the form of her mother raced into view, but Darya now much too emotional to move simply stood there, her shoulder's shaking with each wracking terrible sob that shook through her small frame. Her mother cooed in her native tongue [/size][size=small]and Darya sniffed, looking up at her with swimming hellfire gaze.

Her mother pulled her into her embrace and Darya buried her face in the fur on her mother's foreleg, still sobbing uncontrollably even as she was comforted by her mother's soft nuzzling. "Просто хотел узнать, куда идет мама." She managed to say between sniffly hiccups. "Дарья увидела, что мама что-то похоронила и хотела узнать, что, холодная, все еще птичка." She looked up again, for a moment pulling her face out of her mother's fur. 

"Тогда не удалось найти маму и-" She sobbed loudly again and reburied her face into her mother's leg. "Не нравится, когда им становится холодно и все еще." She whined. 

Art by Risketch

Her sweet little daughter, buried in the snow. Tears streaming through the downy fur of her cheeks. They were dried upon the fur of her forelimbs, which was fine. She had become accustomed to her fur being used as a snotrag for all of her children, and was beginning to accept that she would never be clean again. "Просто хотел узнать, куда идет мама." The child whimpered into her embrace. "Дарья увидела, что мама что-то похоронила и хотела узнать, что, холодная, все еще птичка." Oh dear. She hadn't wanted her babies to fear the circle of life, but it seemed it was too late for little Darya. Those baleful eyes looked at her, glistening with moisture. The expression tightened her chest, made it hard to breathe. "Тогда не удалось найти маму и-" Darya was beginning to reach hysterical levels, and she hurried to soothe the babe with a few gentle swipes of her tongue across the fur of her forehead. "Не нравится, когда им становится холодно и все еще." She finally said. Brokenhearted, she sighed heavily. "Как насчет того, что я расскажу вам историю, любовь моя?" She questioned in a low tone, wrapping her tail around her dark paws. It would insulate her child from the cold a little better. Her children loved story time every night. "Я рассказал вам о богах и о том, как они наблюдают за нами." She began, mercury gaze lowered so that she would meet Darya's eyes. She prayed her recounting would be close enough to those of the shamans, enough so as to calm Darya. Someone should send for a shaman soon, before it was too late. "Зимняя богиня, Марзанна, является дамой смерти. Зима - это время для слабых, и Марзанна спасает свои души, когда их тела не могут выдержать их. Она помогает им перейти к следующей жизни, так как некоторые избранные будут. Она также вводит их в цикл жизни, где охотники пируют добычу, а земля приветствует их кости." She explained, keeping her tone low and gentle. There was nothing to fear in death, truly. Their souls would be ushered on to their next incarnations, so long as the rites of rebirth were completed. "Понимаете, маленькая тень, это не плохо, когда они все еще. Они просто ждут, когда Марзанна приведет их домой, и Лада, дама земли, принесет свои тела в ее объятия. То, что мы едим, восстанавливается в загробной жизни." Tender vocals would announce, as another gentle kiss was placed between her ears. Brows pulled together, she tried to see what Darya was thinking. "Это облегчает ваши страхи, мою любовь?" "speech"

"Говорить"

Her mother continued to gently sooth her and even as Darya's tiny body shook with wracking sobs some part of her was slowly coming down. She was safe, mama was here. Still the bird made her upset. Her mother asked her if she wanted to hear a story and the child nodded, her gaze searching her mother's face, for what she didn't know. She did her best to control her hiccups and sniffing as she listened attentively to her mother's tale. She had become accustomed to the stories of the deities as Lirika told them; and Darya believed in them with all her heart. Mama had no reason to lie to her, and Darya was still too young to question the infallibility of either of her parents.

Darya watched her mother as she spoke, wide eyed and still shaking sometimes. In truth the knowledge of the goddess of which her mother spoke was only marginally comforting to the child, it wasn't that she the stillness itself was what bothered, the idea of anything once alive suddenly finding itself no longer alive was what distressed her. But even as her mother asked her if she felt any better, Darya was too young to articulate her feelings, the uncomfortable sadness that had settled in her chest. Instead she nodded silently and cuddled against her mother's leg again.

Art by Risketch