The End of the World

Was life even worth living if one did not have time for thought? Truthfully, it was a strange thought to him, for they had always had time for philosophical thought and debate even in the hardest of times. His eyes were bright as he studied her, wondering -- she seemed quite sharp, and though she looked very much like a loner rather than a pack wolf, clearly she had survived thus far. But did she continue on, without any purpose? Without any reason, without knowing why she was here, or how everything had come to be? It was hard for him to imagine not thanking rana nietjta for the end of winter, to not think of her with deep gratitude each time he saw the first rays of sun creeping over the horizon in the morning.

His expression mirrored her own interested one, finding delight in their conversation. "How would it not help me?" he'd reply, more a rhetorical question than anything. "How can one truly live unless they understand their place in the world?" Perhaps they could survive, but simply surviving was much different than honest living. His brows would furrow as he considered how he might explained this to her, for she seemed interested. The moment of silence was slightly drawn out as he fell quiet, listening to the roaring of the waves as they crashed against the shoreline.

"Let me ask you this," he'd begin slowly. "What is your relationship with the food that is available to you? The deer, the birds, the rabbits? " his question was a curious one as he probed slightly, wondering how she might reply, unless she found the question entirely stupid. "Do they exist to feed you, or do we owe our existence to them? Or perhaps a bit of both?" Still, his questions were mostly rhetorical, a means for discussion if she chose to continue it. The brute would shrug his shoulders, finding the words difficult to come up with. Though he spoke this tongue easily, it was not his native tongue and he spoke more carefully when confronted with things so different than typical small talk that he was accustomed to.

"My family mostly lived by following the migration of reindeer herds, and picking off the weaker and crippled animals," he'd explain, gauging her for a reaction. Her home was likely as unfamiliar to him as his was to her, and she wondered if she might find this lifestyle strange. "It is difficult to find the words to explain, but spirituality has been engrained in me since birth. For me, everything is connected. See that tree over there?" He'd gesture in the far distance, toward no particular tree, with his tusked muzzle. "That tree has as much life as you or I do. Just different sort of life. I suppose that is why it is difficult for me to imagine anything having much of an end," he'd explain as he gained traction with his thoughts and struggled to express them in coherent words. "For life just seems.. so infinite. I do not believe in death of spirit, only death of body," he'd grin then, a lighthearted chuckle leaving his lips. "Perhaps someday I might be a bird, soaring through the sky, or a thousand grains of sand lying upon this very beach. I suppose this is the code I live by, Kuwindwa, and why this end of the world seems so hard for me to imagine."