The End of the World

No manual for this life, or a next life... her training somehow felt cut short. She was strong; she had learned well. She knew animal tracks and signs. She knew how to hold her own against bigger, stronger wolves and slighter, faster animals. But the why of it all seemed tragically left out. She was taught to protect and defend, to use her strength to bolster those who needed it. She did not despise doing these things. But there was no deity, just some connection... granted, she didn't discount it because of the lack of some greater power.

The shifting sand prompted her to turn her gaze back to Áki properly, her bronze eyes refocusing into their usual sharp, searching expression.

"Do you not think the weak ought to learn to defend themselves?" Another brief smile flashed - she enjoyed the question, the talking. More than she thought she might. Had she really missed it so much?

"Oh yes, I do. Those who are capable were expected to learn. They were expected to do the very best, if not be the best." Kuwindwa paused. She had been high-ranking once. She had been very good... at least in her old pack. "But the old? The young? The maimed? We cared for them as well, and gave them whatever respect they were due. We gave to those who were in need if we could."

There was a brief hesitation before Kuwindwa continued. She did not think she would feel relief speaking to anyone - never mind someone who was still barely more than a stranger - but a part of her yet yearned to tell more. To learn more. But a small part of her old pride remained, and a little shame caused her discomfort... she shifted her weight, then seated herself. "Incomplete... hmm. Perhaps I use the wrong word. My parents taught me everything they could - everything they knew. But we lacked that.. that spirituality. That history and- and purpose. We are given names, and tasks, but when the pack dissolves, we are left empty and meaningless... nothing. As if we could derive so complete a meaning from a name-" Until now, her words had become a little more passionate, though not loud. They were perhaps bitter and confused, but not angry. Still... she had said too much. So she stopped, seemingly suddenly.

She'd struck too close to her own heartsong, plucking brittle strings that nearly shattered. She rebuilt the walls in her mind and heart, her demeanor - while not unkind - slipped back into the cooler façade she was so used to as her defense. One might never have realized she had been opening up until that moment...

Her eyes lowered and she gave her head a small shake, perhaps giving herself away. "Forgive me," she would finish, her voice hollow. She didn't specify what she might need forgiveness for, but her mouth moved for just a moment as if she would say more... only she couldn't find the right words, and ultimately she was silent again. Maybe it was because it was a beautiful night, and under the full moon she had also felt, for just a moment, she was whole. She didn't want to bring down the mood. But she could already feel a certain edge returning at the breach of this subject... and at her own prompting. No one to blame but herself.