By midday Mojag was far from the
ulax. He had clambered down the hill without injury befalling himself, and now sat with his bum planted in the dirt while he stared upward at some trees.
He was watching the spread palm of a branch whose leaves trembled with the wind, intrigued as much by the movement as he was by the luminous quality of the leaves themselves - thin and colorized by the sun that practically fluoresced through them.
There came a sound from within the trees; he did not recognize it as anything but noise, as it was
shrill and rasping, with a climbing volume. Mojag tilted his head one way and then another while trying to understand what was happening - but only one of his ears had unfurled fully at this point, and he could not make sense of it.
The child of Shikoba and Inutsuk was not one Sialuk had the pleasure of spending much time with since his birth. Between tending to anaa's children and her frequent visits to Moonspear, she did not have much time to socialize with the lone child. This, she knew, would not be wholly a problem at his age. He was young yet, not entire cognizant of the world around him. But soon, he would begin to recognize the faces outside his immediate family.
She was delighted to run across him today, his head craned up to look at a squirrel who warned him away. You have met sitsik,
she said, a wry smile playing upon her face.
A pale wolf approached from further up the hill. She wasn't as interesting to Mojag as the little thing that yelled, not until she spoke, and when he realized she was lingering nearby, Mojag grinned at her with his little baby fangs and bumbled over.
She looked and smelled very much like Kukutux, to the point that Mojag didn't consider the obvious differences between them: age, mostly, and the differing scents given that Sialuk spent much of her time at Moonspear; the boy could not spot these differences.
He knew the woman had once fed him, and presumed that was why the pale wolf was here now - so he shoved his face close to Sialuk's underbelly, trying to find some place for his mouth, only to be confused when there was nothing there for him to latch to.
Meanwhile the squirrel had given a few final shrieks and scurried higher up its tree, watching both wolves.
He seemed amused by her presence, and Sialuk’s eyes widened when he rooted around her belly. She laughed. Nothing there for you,
she said, though she made no move to stop him. Mojag would find soon enough that there was no milk to come from her. Perhaps later this year, but not now.
The woman tried to warn him. It took a few moments of nosing around and grasping at nothing (at least, nothing he could latch to; there was plenty of pale fur there to cotton his mouth), before Mojag realized his mistake.
He balked at her a moment and then sat down, flustered and hungry. The boy opened his mouth as if to ask for the manager of this one-star-yelp-review establishment when the squirrel in the tree shrieked again.
It was particularly shrill, and closed Mojag's mind off from his current bothers. His ears turned as his head snapped around to stare up at the tree - followed by a hearty giggle.
Mojag’s giggle was contagious, and Sialuk let her own laughing come freely. She felt in that moment a longing for children of her own. Those that the spear had promised to her. Children born upon the same mountain that had been her first home.
When the time was right, she would be a mother there with her own giggling children.
You like sitsik, hmm? He is quick in trees but slower in grass. One day, when you have grown, you will catch him.
The squirrel continued to scream its warning. It was almost enough to dwarf Sialuk's own voice but when she began to speak again, Mojag leaned in close to listen. He plastered himself against the older wolf's leg and slouched there.
Catching the creature would be a fun game. He wanted to try as soon as she spoke the idea in to existence, and abruptly sat up, then with a glance between Sialuk and the tree, Mojag rushed towards the trunk.
That served only to frighten the squirrel; it reacted as any prey would and with a flourish of movement, it ran from one tree-top to the next, to the next, and on — not interested in being a child's play-thing.
Mojag watched this happen with a shocked expression upon his face. He was disheartened that he could not have done a better job and sagged in to the grass, sitting there, pouting up at the tree — or looking over his shoulder to Sialuk as if to ask, where'd he go???