She did not know what to feel.
Elation? Anger?
What was one without the other? So happy her sister was home, but so angry she had to say goodbye in the first place. Vairë did not like being angry. It rotted in her gut like bad meat, turning the den from calm to tense.
She would not stand it.
Valiant was away, visiting his sister, so Vairë ushered her children out of the dark and into the sunlight for a little while. She chose a log nearby to lay upon, perched over the forms of her children to keep a loving eye on them, and allow them to figure themselves out.
Asivaq was away with her mother to reconnect, and Kigipigak elected to stay with their children and watch them.
He was not oblivious to the attitude of the Moon wolves; Kukutux had not looked at him even once upon the return of the family. Vaire, who he spotted with her own children now, had come and gone without a word.
Kigipigak did not feel welcome. He knew he was not. He knew how much these people had come to loathe him; but he was here now and determined to have his children thrive.
The children would need a united front.
A rustle, among the trees.
Her eyes glanced from her children to the splotch of color in the otherwise uniform green and brown. Her head crested at the end of her neck, despite the tremor of her limbs as who it was washed over her.
Winterhawk man.
Her voice was flat, monotone, leaning neither which way in how she felt. This was her sister’s husband, and she was now his superior. Vairë probed one of her teeth with her tongue, and tried to settle her racing heart.
It is a fine day for a walk.
She hoped this was all he wanted, an accident in stumbling across her whelping den.
The cold front exuded by the woman was to be expected, and while it gave Kigipigak a taste of home upon the tundra it was a sensation that did not suit the warmth of spring.
Kigipigak gave a small bow of his head. I am reaquainting myself with this village.
He did not apologize for coming so close to what was clearly her space, but he did withdraw a few strides, then look to where his own children were temporarily sequestered.
Has much changed for your village?
Mine is gone, again.
I am to be wed again.
And you would have led my sister so far she never would have known.
Vairë kept the caustic tone hidden underneath her tongue, unwilling to allow anyone to see that hidden anger, that snake waiting to strike. She looked to her children, before she slid from her perch to come closer to the winterhawk, if only to put herself between him and them.
I am moondoe, to be the next moonwoman, once anaa has decided she wishes to only be grandmother. And, as you can see, I have three more children.
She looked over her shoulder.
Lilyflower, Lariat, and Lightfoot. They grow like weeds.
She looked back to Kigipigak. A curious brow raised. Would he have much else to say?
There were changes.
Would they benefit his family? Having Kukutux retire from her role might be a positive, or it would give her more free time to insert herself in to the lives of others.
Vaire as Moonwoman.
Congratulations.
He meant it. She named some children and Kigipigak realized he also had three, and he offered their names: Asivaq has grown our family as well. Two girls and a boy; Atausiq, Malguk and Sisamat. Perhaps they would benefit from knowing their cousins some day.
That was all that mattered now - not the broken village, not the grief he refused to face; the children would grow in this place and Kigipigak had to make sure they retained their connections to their family.
My thanks.
Vairë bit her tongue, closing her eyes for only a moment, before she sharpened her mind like a dagger. Authority cast aside for the knife of scheming.
Perhaps they would. Once they grow older, I would be pleased to introduce them.
And that would interweave them into the web of Moonglow even more. Her children would know the cousins they almost didn’t, and Vairë would call that a win in a chess game she didn’t even want to play, but found herself doing anyway. Maybe it was the anger, still bubbling, still irrational, that caused her to regard this man not as in-law, but as threat. She would address such later, when she was not on edge enough that her skin prickled with every movement of the breeze.
He nodded. It would be good to see the children among those of their own age group, and Kigipigak enjoyed the thought of seeing them at play. He wondered next if his son Kivaluk would be near enough to meet them.
I want to introduce them to my elder son, Kivaluk. Have you seen him around?
He had not considered him until the return of the family to the village, and did not consider that he would perhaps be unwelcome in this.
A vicious thread of guilty glee.
Kivaluk has returned with his wife to her home, as she wished to be close to her mother when her children were born.
She rose her nose, pointing it in the direction of Brecheliant.
He lives in the Caldera now. His children will be born any day now, if I am remembering correctly.
Vairë looked to the elder man out of the corner of her eye.
If Vaire hoped to wound him with this news there was an opposite effect. To hear that his son and his daughter-in-law were doing well was a blessing; to know also that they were removed from the village and the influence of a rival culture was another.
Kigipigak knew they were expecting but not that they might be parents so soon, if not already! And himself made a grandfather? He was briefly winded at the thought, and smiled in the way he used to, thrilled to hear this news.
That is good news! Thank you for telling me.
He gave Vaire another little bow of his head, and then turned to go; she was clearly defensive of her space and Kigipigak did not want to linger too long. To think that his son's own children might grow up alongside his newest siblings was a thing of great value to Kigipigak!
If only they could have done so together as a family, as a village, as Tartok — but Kigipigak would hold fast to the goodness of this information as he headed back to his three, buoyed for the first time in a while, so that he might survive his deeper grief.
It had not gotten the reaction she thought, and Vairë blinked at the fading white figure. Anger flared hot, followed by shame, and she huffed against it. She would not feel shame for her reactions, not this day.
Moondoe turned, and returned to her children.