Pinga
The Caribou Mother, Keeper of Life's Bitter Pulse
Life's bitter pulse runs through me.
I walk where life and death touch — the moment the caribou falls, the breath before a child is born. I don't ask for worship, just respect. Feed your kin, thank the land, and never take what you won't use. Cross me, and the cold comes quick.
What I'm Into: caribou migrations, the hunter's silent breath, bitterroot medicine, mother's hands, Sedna's deep
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