Cedar Sweep nigisuk

Around 20 days old, can start eating pre-digested meat and can walk a little.

He was awake for longer and longer stretches of time, and he watched as his world gradually expanded. The warmth of his mother's belly was still his favorite thing; however, Sisamat had noticed there was more to the world than warmth.

For instance, his mother (@Asivaq) was preoccupied by long periods of silence, and at night when he ought to be sleeping, he would hear her outside of the ulaq making sounds at the stars. He did not know what any of this meant; only that there was a heaviness to all of it.

The boy stood now at the mouth to the ulaq, staring outside at the bright world beyond. There was a ruddy figure (@Stratos) hiking among the trees and when they came to greet Sisamat, they bowed their head and—there was food! It appeared as if by magic, steaming and soft!

Sadness stirred the village like deep waters, and Stratos worked to keep his head above the waves, so he could help Asivaq do the same. 

But truly, he hadn't felt this kind of grief since he'd lost Ani. Even then, there had always been some small hope she'd come back, or he'd find her alive. But this - this was different. Final. They had sung the mourning songs. Buried the boy six feet down. The other children had already filled the space he'd left behind. He was gone. That was that. And the others lived, and that was that. 

Stratos neared the ulaq with a belly full of meat, and with another little guy waiting at the den mouth to greet him. Sisamat. He wished his sister had pushed back against this one tradition of Tartok to give the children the names of the moon people. To grow up only knowing your name as a number! But he hadn't fought her. Only told himself that if he found a mate this season and had pups by her, he'd do what he had to to ensure his children had proper names from the start.

Hello, Sisa, he said with a yawn, just before Stratos emptied the food on the ground. As his nephew sniffed at it, Stratos eased himself down to get on Sisamat's level, tail scattering the rocks and dust left by the melted snow. Gourmet dining, for one of my favourite nephews. Fish with the fragrance of fruit. Better eat up before your siblings come.

While most of the words made little sense to him at this time, Sisamat took some of the sounds and murmured them around the pile of food, as he sniffed it. The moment his wagging tongue caught upon the pile he realized it tasted good, and he set upon it with a new ferocity.

He ate most of the fish guts before he tasted a piece of sour fruit, and that made him balk, then spit, and look at Stratos as if he had done that on purpose. What was it? That wasn't food! He coughed and kicked at the pile, making mud out of it, which might've ruined the bulk of it—but he didn't care.