Iktome Plains Inop tuKua tikillugu

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All whilst his son committed a crime most heinous, the Inuk had continued onward towards the shoreline. There, gazing out over the sea, he felt his heart go out towards the home he’d left behind so many years ago. Time sped up as he gazed at the ocean, eyes of heated copper melding with the water’s clear blues almost perfectly. A part of him, the youthful adventurer nestled deep within his heart, longed to challenge the waves and seek out the blubber of a seal to sink his teeth into, but his body would not allow it. Aged limbs and deteriorating bones prevented him from bolting off into the freezing waters, forcing him to remain there in the sand until the sun began to slip below the horizon. Only then, with the reminder of his child weighing on his mind, had he managed to tear his gaze away from the sea and turn in the direction whence he’d come.

The two met each other part way, Kove’s expression empty. He did not greet his son in any way, nor did he truly acknowledge him—until the blood was detected and the head spotted. It belonged to a child, the size alone made that undeniably, and lacked a body to go along with it. There was a flicker of sheer anger that crossed the man’s face, disappearing just as quickly as it appeared. Yet, he said nothing. There was only silence, followed by a slow shake of his head and then the turning of his frame. In that moment, he regretted having contributed to the child’s creation more so than anything else in life. And so, without pause, he’d lead the boy back to the woods—back to the woman who was surely at fault for his behaviour—and simply leave him there. Through blood, they were related, but he could see the killer as his son no longer.

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