Packbound Bone

The Bone Moon has hung too long and pulled the beast-shape loose from the people who carried it. What is left of your pack walks four reaches of moor looking for the rest of them. Your Lead never stops running, and the bone-light trailing behind it is the whole of your weapon. Bring that line back onto itself and the loop snaps shut, holding everything caught inside. Tight rings bite hardest; a wide lazy sweep barely stings. The line can also be cut, and the Weft does not come for you at all — it comes for the line, and everything behind the cut is gone. Between hunts there is the Den. Six Boundkin, each wearing a different shape, each changing how the line runs. A hearth that works what you gathered into something that lasts. Bonds that deepen only by hunting together. A Reckoning that fills itself in as you meet what is out there. Three Great Unbound waiting at the end of their reaches, and one last decision about the moon itself.