He must be Great

Unatsikanogeni Adahy · 08-10-2012, 02:32 PM

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(439) Una is like 8D companyyy!

Lineart by *FerianMoon; colored by me!

No matter how life in AniWaya went, Unatsikanogeni knew he was glad to live in a hut again. He’d never been the toughest of wolves, and so exposure to the elements bothered him more than it might a great grey or even one of his own species who’d learned to suck it up. Now, even when Vsgiyi rolled around and brought winter with it, he would be warm and cozy in his little shack.

His only regret was that the hut was completely empty now, other than a cot and some of the belongings he’d brought from the Great Tribe—which mainly consisted of the hand scythe hanging off a peg in the wall and the drum in the corner of the room. He wanted to personalize the place, but he didn’t really know what to do; he’d never tried painting, or skinning, and so he knew that it’d be hard to throw up murals and throw down furs. His best bet would be to beg someone for an ornamental rug and maybe even trade with outsiders, although he wasn’t looking forward to that.

The ruddy-furred man sighed, flopping on his cot, his white arm dangling. He rested on his stomach and stared off at the blank wall for at least half an hour before dozing off, waking himself up with little jerks of his head until there was a quiet rapping on the wood of the hut. He propped himself up on his elbows, big ears turning toward the entrance, where he could hear a soft voice calling out in Cherokee.

For a second, the drowsy Tsulvwisdanehi thought that he was back in the Great Tribe, since he was so unused to hearing their tongue among these English-speakers. His ears flattened, and he hesitated, wondering stupidly if he was going to be dragged out of his hut and pilloried. He deserved it, they’d never actually grabbed him and paraded him through the village for his crimes, or whatever they were called, and he didn’t want to start, but maybe there was another way out of the hut—

Glancing at the blank walls again, Una woke more fully then shook his head to clear the nightmares. He was in AniWaya, and someone was calling for him. Maybe they wanted to be friends! Bringing a basket of eggs over, or something else new neighbors did. He grinned and jumped up, calling back in fluent Cherokee, “Vv, giyvha!” He looked for his leather sack then kicked it under the bed, ran his hand through his hair, and pushed it back behind his shoulder. “Giyvha, giyvha!” he repeated, grinning ear to ear.

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