the world around then moves on.
it throws many things at them, many things.
too many to count.
there is no rhyme or reason to them.

in the end, the challenges are arbitrary.

what they are matters little.
the only thing that they can control is how they react.

no need to be rude.

the image reflected in the water
is strange yet familiar all at once.

like a song sung in reverse.

even behind the clouds,
the stars keep shining.

She's known for two things: sleeping a frankly absurd amount that makes many kin concerned for her health, and a vicious streak that absolutely will not quit. These two traits combined mean that waking her up is ill advised. After the first couple of times she gored a poor concerned tribemate for daring to try rousing her from her sleep, intentionally or in a half-conscious haze, kin started referring to her as "the terror" or "the sleeping terror" just to preemptively warn others not to mess with her while she's getting her rest.

While not the most "honorable" name a Totoma could be given, she takes it in stride.

the tree no longer grew leaves.
its skeleton reached out towards an empty sky.
according to everyone, it was long dead.

what a surprise it was
to see it flowering.

the smoke that reaches to the sky.
great grey and black plumes of shade.
she can feel it in her lungs.
she can feel it on her skin.

forever upward and upward it rises.
into the clouds.
over the clouds.
to the moon.
to the stars.

into the dark night it fades away.
but its smell, its feeling.
they linger, forever.

in her heart.
in the sky.

it whispers quiet stories into his ear.

tales of woe, of love, of tragedy and passion.

he is forever indebted.

raising his voice until it rings against the sky,

he sings back.

he doesn't have legs.
he's a shapeless, amorphous thing.
but he has to move somehow.

he squirms.

flame courses through her nerves.
she tries to take a burning breath,
but hot pain consumes her lungs.

she's drowning.

It's a strange bush with tall, pointed flowers that she finds at the edge of the plains, where the land is scrubby and losing lushness. Not quite the desert, but far enough from her home she dare not tread further. And yet... Its little flowers are the most beautiful purple-blue she's ever seen...

Introspective and empathetic, ever since he was young, this Totoma was happy to listen to the problems of his tribemates and try to give them a hand in whatever ailed them. Of course, he always ended up crying whenever anyone had really sad predicaments, since he's very emotional. While there was never anything particularly special about what physical feats or skills he could lend them, he was always willing to give anyone who needed it someone to cry along with so that they'd feel less alone. And so, for his devotion to being supportive to every kin who came his way, he was given the name Lends-Tears.

Touched by the electric energy of the fractured obelisk, he was given the uncanny ability to sense storms on the horizon long before most other totoma. His fur tends to stand on end even before clouds gather. He earned his name after warning his tribe of an incoming storm long enough in advance to get all their members to safety. His warning told of a lightning strike that would light the dry winter brush ablaze, and when it turned out to be true, he was given the name Lightning Caller.

the past is unchangeable,
and the future is unpredictable.

they are just fleeting illusions.
the one thing he can truly call "himself"
exists only now.

she scrubs furiously at her legs.
she can see the color staining the pure river,
and yet it won't come off.
it remains in her fur.
she will never be clean.