some scrap of pelt or other; she had begged to keep her mind busied with tasks; it had fallen to her lap and now she stretched it on the ground just outside the den.
she meant to scrape it again and then begin the grinding, and at last her mouth found a soft song.
look, the fur is soft!
look, the skin is supple!
the fox ran quickly
the hunter followed
you see his legs which dance
he will tell the story of running the rabbit
he will tell the story to your pretty eyes
Maggak watches from the safe nestle of her little face in the peach-fuzz of brother's shoulder. Anânsiak — which she could not say in full just yet, so from her, it sounds more like anâmsag — busies herself with a drying pelt, a process new to her widened eyes. She hears the soft hum of melodic vocals, something pleasing and warm, and it takes all her power not to doze right then and there.
She, then, parts from brother to scoot closer on stubby stilted legs, ears flopping up before falling back down again. Whad'ya doin?
she asks, wonder plastered all over her chubby cheeks.
he snuggled in to the comforting touch of his sister as the pair of them watch and listen. baby blues admired in wonder at the pelt, though even more so at the delicate melody of the song. heavy eyelids fluttered shut and he felt the weight of slumber begin to sneak upon him. but before he could doze off, the weight against him shifted and he was pulled back to focus.
maggak, now a few paces ahead, spoke words he didn't quite catch. still sleepy-eyed, acrux scooted himself closer until he was pressed against the side of his sister once more. here he remained, watchful, but still fighting sleep.
"tutaalugaq," kukutux said as maggak came near. her song halted, the woman settled onto her haunches, inviting the baby girl into her arms, offering the same to acrux a warm look as well.
"this is the skin of a deer," laid viscera-side up. "we will pull the .... qiaqaqtuq away." it was not quite correct, the word she had used, but the meaning was clear. "look."
pulling gently away, kukutux flicked her teeth along the surface, moving in crouched steps as she stripped the bits of flesh and tissue, collecting them into a neat ball that could be safely eaten by a curious or bored child. she had fed her own bits of fat and gristle this way, keeping the infants close to her as she worked.
"then we will put it deep in the water for three days," kukutux went on, glancing between the two. "and after this, we dry, and then it is chewed until it becomes soft. this takes a hand of time, many days. it is why we sing."
The girl wriggles like a little worm away from Acrux and into the closeness of kukax. She gives the same look to him; curious, inviting.
The skin of a deer lays before them, and Maggak examines it with a sniffle of her nose. Then, anâmsag rolls morsels of tissue into a little ball; she watches it roll toward her, and from the confines of her embrace, she snatches it with two splayed arms and brings it between her and Acrux. A garbled noise of contentment comes from her as milkteeth sink into the rough texture.
We wet and then dry the pelts — we? The adults, she presumes. Her ears slant before the fated question rolls from her lips; Why?
maggak squirmed away from him and into the arms of kukax. there is a warmth there in the openness of both pale figures, but he refuses in the growing coldness that crept upon him instead. deep in the pit of his belly is a blooming emotion he'd never felt before — jealousy. it stirs him upright and in to focus, attention now properly set on the older woman and her movements.
he was attentive towards the teachings, if only because it offered a distraction from the feeling in his gut. baby blues glanced towards his sister when she stole away the ball of tissue, though they quickly found the sight of the moonwoman in the wake of maggak's question.
"it is our way. my way, to make good skins that are soft. if many are made, we give them in trade for things we do not have. aya, see," moonwoman went on, lapsing back into her own words, for she wished her grandchildren to count the siqniq tongue also among those they spoke, "we can trade the skin of deer for the fat of seals. or maybe we give fish from our lake for the teeth of sea animals."
she smiled wrly. "one who travels many places, to forest, to sea, to lake, to river, to snow, to mountain; that one is called tayanax. trader." among her people, it had been a thing only a man might do, a thing only a man might wish to do. few young women wished to leave the protection of their mothers and their villages to face death and hard hunger in their trading forays.
but those men who traveled brought something that was not whalebone nor seal teeth, was not the delicate bones of tiny jeweled birds whom kukutux could not believe existed. they brought stories, and through these stories were every wolf in that village transported upon the journeys of these traders.
perhaps a child of hers might wish this. perhaps a grandchild.
Maggak had grown greatly attuned to her brother's needs, his feelings, and as such, when the sourness overtakes him, she noses the ball of skin toward him and watches it bounce off his wrist. She, of course, assumed that he wanted it instead; she was not above taking turns!
Kukax code-switches here and there, and as hard as she tries to keep up, the starlet cannot quite process everything said to her. Either way, she nods as if she does. She, then, lurches forward with the slam of pale paws to soft pelt, and attempts to copy what she had seen the moonwoman do — however, she is not quite strong enough to be successful. It merely looks as if she is chewing on fur and membrane.
She pauses with a puff of air blown from her nose. This was not working, and so now she had a new agenda: Da song,
her eyebrows lift eagerly. I wanna sing da song!
the ball of skin came bowling his way, and he too watched as it bounced off his wrist and rest just off from his leg. it remained there for a few moments, before eventually he leaned forward and grasped it between pearly milkteeth. and in the mix of words spoken, he simply gnawed on his new gift.
it was only at the mention of tayanax, that he paused from his chewing. trader. there was something that felt inherently right about the word, as if it had been made just for him. anaa had spoken of being a mountain walker, was this the same?
"ta-ya-nax," he practiced, looking to anânsiak for confirmation or correction on his pronunciation.
maggak requested song, but acrux found himself lost in the adventures of his mind. to forest, sea, lake, river, snow, and mountain. to the world.
fading! <3
and so she taught them this, once more:
look, the fur is soft!
look, the skin is supple!
the fox ran quickly
the hunter followed
you see his legs which dance
he will tell the story of running the rabbit
he will tell the story to your pretty eyes