Thunder (G/T P!Septiplier)

Lünâewa

"I have a thought," Amy said aloud as the warm glow of the flames danced over her face. The firepit was active, currently boiling a serving of melted snow for safe consumption.

"What of it?" Mark was leaning against Amy, and her against him, as the wind howled like an untamed canine. Between them, Jack was curled up on the warrior's thigh, leaning against his muscle-padded waist as he dozed peacefully under a thick sheet of soft animal fur. The bloody evidence of his latest feast, the blueish purple juice of the alien fruit that was getting to be more and more familiar, still stained his mouth.

"What if we tried something other than berries?" Amy suggested, "His appetite has been growing increasingly; I don't think I've ever seen such a small creature eat so much." Mark let a soft chuckle rumble in his chest as he glanced down at the little human.

"Perhaps so." He rubbed Jack's back, earning a soft sleepy hum as the Irishman shifted comfortably in his sleep.

"Well, we'll have to find something else: He can't eat frozen crépes forever, they'll go bad soon," Amy reasoned. "Besides, he should have something more than just one thing over and over again so he'll regain more energy."

"Cha. And more energy means swifter healing."

"Exactly." They sat in silence for a few minutes, with only the bubbling of purifying water and the pop and crackle of fire to fill the space in the hut. Outside, however, was busy: the moon was full, and so tonight was to be a time of song and dance. They were both already dressed for the occasion: Amy's hair was pushed back over her ears by a thin crown of woven saplings, and adorned with brown and white feathers, as well as bracelets and swirls of violet dye on her light skin, and a more dress-like outfit; Mark had on less metal and no pectoral sleeve to expose the tattoos, but still wore the metallic gauntlets, and his face was stained with redder dye marks, including two lines that ran over his right eye like a bleeding eyebrow.

Eventually, Amy moved her head and gestured for Mark to remove the bowl from the fire. He carefully leaned over their patient and pulled the bowl out, wincing a little at the surprisingly high temperature before carefully setting it down on the surrounding circle of snow.

"Hopefully he'll still have a good sleep," Mark said as he rubbed his hands together, "Dreamwalking will be hard with the Lünâewa celebrations going on." As if to prove his point, someone outside busted a testing drum solo accompanied by a cluster of laughs and yips.

"He's resting quite well at the moment," Amy pointed out with a small laugh. "Leave him to regain his strength. The others will come here soon looking for us." Mark nodded and tilted his leg, letting Jack slide off and right into his hands. Jack let out a few drowsy noises and snuggled his covers as the warrior settled him back inside his nest. He gave the small human a little ruffle of the hair with one finger, murmuring well wishes for a good rest, before turning and following Amy out of the winter hut.

Not far off was the center of the tribe's camps, which was comprised of a clearing and a great mountain of firewood. Gathered around already were the masters of the drums, the horns, the clapsticks, the pan flute, and rhythm and dancing and vocalizing. Mark could already feel a familiar stir of excitement as he spied a group of youths chanting at Ethan.

"Backflip! Backflip! Backflip!" They begged. Ethan laughed as he tried to promise them he would do it soon, but they kept pleading until he finally exclaimed, "Alright alright, I'll do it!" They immediately scooted back as he crouched, thought it out in a few seconds, and then he sprang. The children gasped in awe as he gracefully flipped over, feet arching to touch the stars and kick through the night like water, and then he was back on his feet with hardly a stumble. They squealed with delight and demanded another go. Mark, smiling, decided to step in and save the blue-haired boy from exhausting himself.