when the woman repeated nuvts’eyaȟa’, cloud lash smiled, small and earnest. she shook her head again, more gently this time, her black-tipped ears flicking. she lifted a paw and pressed it to her own chest, fur brushing against the simple string of beads she wore.
nuvts’eyaȟa’,she said again, firmer.
my... name.
then she nodded, a little slower, to confirm she understood the woman's question. her home? cloud lash’s red eyes swept toward the open valley. she gestured outward with her nose.
home... there.her voice was halting, but sure, painting a future still being built. she would make it a home — for herself, for grey shrike, for any who might follow.
and, maybe, for this wandering soul too, if she wished it.