Raimo crept his way up the mountain until he found himself on a precipice. This bald-faced segment was surrounded by beech trees and from what he could tell, a plethora of fruit-bearing bushes. They were frost-bitten at the moment but he wondered what exactly would grow from them in the coming months. While investigating the hedges along a narrowed lip of clay something moved. Raimo paused and stared raptly in to the depths of the low-clipped bushes and saw a flash of red-brown.
As the fox whipped from its hiding place among the bushes Raimo tracked it with his eyes — finding it easier when the creature's red coat hit patches of white snow — and threw himself in to pursuit of it. The fox was small, fast, and knowledgable of the spine; some of its turns caught Raimo off-guard but he fought to make up for his lack of awareness of the area, until he was bearing down upon the vermin.
The wolf ploughed through the snow to reach the fox. There was a momentary stillness, and then the collision of Raimo's dark shape, crushing the fox beneath a pounce, grinding it in to the stone and ice. When the chaos stilled Raimo stood panting over the creature's crushed skull.
it had been near to seven days. kukutux found that her broken bone, while still monumentally anguishing if she stepped wrong, had begun to heal.
angry tongue clucking inside her head. anaa would have already set and splinted the bone. and it was true; the duck's mother, having brought up boys of her own and the sons of her sisters, had become accustomed to knowing what to do when such things were snapped.
but kukutux had no such premonitions. she hobbled out of doors, glancing to the sky for sialuk's bird, and then to the nearest slope. the duck did not dare climb it, but she scratched one-legged in the snowbank, searching for two sticks. she could show her raindrop what should be done.
movement above her brought the moondrop's muzzle tilting upright. she watched the brief chase that ended in blood; he moved like a moon-dark glacier through the white. the fox was dead. from this distance she could not quite see the color of the man's eyes, but gave him a nod all the same: her first of approval.
Reaching down, Raimo crunched through the damaged vertebrae of the neck and sufficiently severed the head from the body. He pulled the bulk away hastily before the blood could spill too much — tried to, anyway. A smear of red painted across the snow. He licked his lips as he raised his head, tasting the sour notes of fox blood. The older of the women caught his eye; she seemed appreciative of his presence today, which was a good sign.
Hastily Raimo packed snow against the shredded neck wound and waited for the cold to slow the leaking of blood. He craned his neck to grab for the fox and hoisted it up by the shoulders, almost like has carrying a newborn using the loose skin there. It was still warm. He brought this closer to where Kukutux waited and then unceremoniously dropped it nearby.
For you. The meat is not as rich as venison but better not to waste it. Perhaps the fur can be stripped clean.
Raimo wondered if this would be held against him too, or levied in an attempt to pay him for his services. Their barter was not yet complete. I could try to strip it myself, if you have other plans for the day.
raimo descended with the fox in tow. the bitter scent of its blood filled the air, beginning a strange hunger in kukutux. the duck watched his dark features with the mismatched eyes carefully, and then inclined her head lower. "i thank you, raimo."
she did not mention their barter. "i have no plans that would take my day." it pained her to say aloud, and her three whole legs carried the moonbow forward in an attempt to veil the discomfort.
around the blood of the fox she breathed. "we call him tigiganniak." the duck's attention was no longer upon the cooling scarlet or how the limp body sprawled in the snow. "but where i am from, brother fox changes his parka with the seasons, preferring most often to wear white."
a story for children. a story for a man she could not read, closed as a shelf of ice beneath rivermelt.
Raimo was pleased to have found the woman something to keep her mind engaged through the day. He did not hear the strain of her admitting it, not yet attuned to the subtleties of either woman of the mountain. She could consume the meat and work with the hide, which might allow Kukutux to derive some semblance of comfort, or be closer to her norm. Raimo could not know. If working was what she was used to the he would provide for that.
After accepting the gift the woman went on to tell a story. This thrilled Raimo, a warmth filling his gaze that shifted his bullish face in to something boyish. Stories were of great importance to him — his family raised him on many that helped him become the man he is. Stories were what brought him to the Teekon in the first place.
Tigiganniak.
He reiterated, testing the new word. A fox that changed its skins? That was a new tale for Raimo, which he drank in greedily. I have never seen a white fox.
He admits. It would be a tricky hunt, but thrilling, I imagine.
The red variant had been easy to follow and to cull, but the pale fox would present a challenge. Raimo found himself hoping that one day he would find one.
he had enjoyed the story. his features had softened from the distant cunning she had begun to compare with him: an intelligent, silent man with much patience. and a skilled hunter as well.
"the boys not yet men ran after brother fox when he wore white. whoever caught him would be a full hunter. but they would all eat his flesh. he gives strength to the limbs and a sharpness to the mind."
the essence of a fox, kukutux believed. she dipped her slender muzzle closer to the kill, nosing through the guard hairs that managed to be at once coarse and fine. it was a good pelt, the duck admitted to herself with a little less grudging than she had expected.
"it has been many days and you have stayed in the valley," the duck chose to say, and she lowered her thinned hips to the snow. paws beneath plume, the greenstone eyes watchful.
Raimo listened carefully to the continuance of the story, learning a little bit about Kukutux in the process; or at least her people. The importance of the tale had to do with coming-of-age, as well as the benefits of the fox meat. Seeing that Raimo had caught his own fox quickly showed he was not a boy. Presenting it to Kukutux might earn some favor with her, although the pelt was red and not white (and an easier hunt because of this), but at the very least she could eat the precious meat and recover.
While she inspected the remains, drawing close to the cooling skin with its pelt of autumnal reds, Raimo watched her; his mind was elsewhere, back in Round Valley, as he thought of his sprawling family. He wondered who he could peddle this story to, and what it might be worth.
Kukutux brought him back to the black forest with her comment. She shifted her body slightly, her eyes trained upon him. Yes. How goes your recovery?
Raimo's voice is sharp now, lacking the warmth that the tales had brought out in him — almost defensive. He had many reasons to linger.
the warmness left their conversation. the moment had been swift and yet kukutux tucked aside the glimpse of another side to raimo. he revealed little about himself outside of what was relevant to each point in time.
"the break is clean. i will walk further every hand of days." recovery of such was never swift, but kukutux did not wish to be more vulnerable than she already was beneath his eye.
aware now that they had looked upon one another far longer than was proper, the duck swept her lashes down with a thinly veiled sigh. a small paw extended to touch the pelt again.
"there is water near. when i have removed the flesh from the other side of the fur, it must be soaked." the coldness would constrict the skin, harden it. then the long days of chewing it, grinding that side to leather. something to while away the hours between death songs.
her throat clenched with a tiny sound.
She averted her eyes from him as she spoke. In time she would mend and have the capacity to leave this mountain. Selfishly Raimo found himself wishing she would over-exert herself; perhaps he should feed her more sparingly, give up the chance to make an ally with his gifts and use those offerings in a different way.
However, malice was not his aim. If he was going to cultivate a friendship with this woman (or the daughter) he would need to rely upon kindness, even if they were suspicious of it. He banished such plots from his mind for the time being.
There is plenty of snow. Could that be melted and used for soaking?
Raimo asked. The snow would need to be melted first and there was no way to gather it, but it would save her from walking on her injury, or exacerbating it.
Raimo watched her carefully. The woman looked pained, but she was only sitting in the snow, not exerting weight upon her ankle. Thinking it was his presence that bothered her, he slid back a step, and then another, looking away from where she perched to eye the red pelt of the fox.
kukutux glanced up in mild confusion as raimo moved away. and yet she was grateful for it; she had not meant to grieve before a stranger.
was the kunguk a stranger? raimo remained unknown to her and to sialuk, but he was not unkind, he simply did not give his work freely.
"no." but the bedraggled duck did not shake her head for fear of insult. "it must be water that moves. it will clean the dirt from the fur side that teeth cannot reach."
grime too, lying against her own skin as if it were a rotting blanket. she suddenly felt unclean. "it will make a fine thing to carry healing plants when the snow has gone." a thought of bronco now, rallying the glen to him.
It made sense. Snow would become stale water against the flesh, plus it would take too much effort to warm it, leeching warmth from a body that needs it. He could not think of how better to melt the snow than to use one's body, which would indeed make a mess of things.
Her mention of when the snow is gone made his ears twitch. To hear Kukutux speak as if she would not leave this mountain gave Raimo a little more hope; he wished to see her flourish, after all.
When the snow has gone,
he murmurs thoughtfully, do you wish me gone also?
It was a risk to ask this question. Neither the mother nor daughter trusted him innately. They were not family. Any aid he has rendered to them has not softened their hearts to him nor borne fealty of any measure. If she wished him gone would he even leave? But the question hangs there now, and he must listen carefully for the answer.
one of his eyes held the hue of sunlight touching rich loam. the other was like a goldthread petal, darkened enough with a gentle burnish. she wondered how he had gotten those eyes, and then a shiver that was not from wind overtook her narrow shoulders.
perhaps raimo was twins, a man who had consumed another inside their mother before either were brought into the world that was why he bore such eyes. twins were cursed. one would be laid out for the white fox. but those who were both were thought to be blessed in some way. spirit-walkers.
"no." kukutux let the word rest for a moment. "i do not wish to be beholden to you." another pause to see how he would react. "you have stayed many days and bring meat and pelts." she brushed the foxfur again. "you are hunter here. if you wish to stay and make a village with us and with others, then remain. make a sleeping place," kukutux murmured, "one that does not change."
"we stay here, for that way," and here the duck motioned in direction of the glacier, "holds the bones of my brother. and the mountain may hold the bones of my ... of ones we have loved. i do not wish to leave them. when the snow is gone, green things come up and so must we recover and grow. be in that number."
The way she looks at him is strange. She does not train her eyes on him for long periods of time, but steals glances when he feigns interest elsewhere. It is like he is being studied by someone from another planet; indeed he feels like an alien walking among the terrestrial, a feeling that has always clung to his skin and made it crawl.
When Kukutux answers the question it is Raimo's turn to look up from where he has let his eyes wander, watching her carefully. She is playing with the foxfur again. Make a sleeping place,
she says, one that does not change.
Raimo finds himself grateful for asking the question after all. It sounds as though this mountain will become the permanent home for Kukutux and he wonders if the daughter will linger with them too, or go on to the Caldera, or any number of places. He does not want to see them separated.
I am glad to stay,
Raimo admits. He would not have left without good reason regardless of how Kukutux felt on the subject, but he does not voice this. Perhaps it is known already; he has a way about him. There is good hunting on the mountain.
As if that is his only reason.
a quirk of her mouth. "i would not yet know." it was not quite humour that came to kukutux, but it was warmer than grief. she could not keep her eyes from moonspear. the days would wear on. the nights would be long without the comfort of the mountain.
her heart ached, and she longed for sialuk to return. each moment the girl was away, each time that she left the ulaq and the duck could not go with her, something twisted deep inside.
"i will take this back." a pull of her muzzle; she did not ask raimo to come with her. not yet. her raindrop must be consulted before they called the hunter for a formal invitation. and he knew by now, surely, where the ulaq was. and yet he had not forced his presence.
kukutux lifted the red pelt, giving a polite dip of her head, before he began to turn her limping gait toward a home that was not moonspear, heavy with a grief that could be .
He watched her go. The desire to help in the moving of the fox's body did not stir him to action.
Kukutux limped along to her hiding place without waiting for Raimo to disperse first, proving that she held some level of trust in him, minimal as it might be. He had not gone out of his way to hunt for her sleeping place — thinking he could curry favor with her and eventually earn the knowledge, as all things must be earned — and was pleased to see that he was right.
As she vanished with the gift he lingered there a moment to observe their surroundings, and then rose to his feet. Raimo slunk off silently across the snow thereafter.