Sing a Song of Mourning

Legacy was tucked in her father’s alcove, sorting packets of herbs when an ear flicked back at the faint rustling from Kairi’s alcove. A shift in breathing, the scent of blood, and then the older wolf’s panicked howl ripped Legacy fully out of her thoughts and sent her barreling out of the alcove, nearly crashing into her mother.

The sight of her mother steadied her racing heart and she nodded quickly, taking the water skin and trotting quickly down the cave hall to the fire chamber, dumping the water into one of the clay pots and lifting it onto the coals.

She fanned the coals, adding wood and getting the water boiling while she listened for any calls. Kyode and Ime came around the corner and fell into an old rhythm with the young woman, one she’d watched them do with her father, and she was forced to swallow back the ache of longing as she focused on her task.

The water was steaming, and soon bubbled. Ime wrapped a thick hide around the clay handle and Legacy clamped her jaws around the handle and lifted the pot away, feeling the pull in her neck muscles. She tipped the pot against the ground and let the hot water pour into two bowls.

She dropped the packets of tea into the first bowl – the smaller one – and waited with breath held for it to steep while she bustled around and gathered the rest of the supplies needed for the ordeal ahead.

Finally, it was ready and she let the two primates carry the bowls out ahead of her.

Legacy peeked in and murmured, “The water and tea’s ready. How’s it going?”

The smell of blood was thick on the air, more than there should be in a regular birthing.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think