Snowfall was not uncommon, not with winter still holding them tight. For this reason, Aningan was hardly surprised to see snowflakes falling from above again, coming and going as they pleased; it seemed like it would snow for a moment, change its mind and stop, then start back up again. It made following trails difficult, and so the boy ended up taking a break instead.

Moving through the snow, the bear eventually found himself on the edge of the stream. He did not wish to fish today, deciding that the chill of the water combined with the indecisive snowfall wouldn’t make for very good results. But he was thirsty and leaned down to lap at the water through and already-made hole in the ice. Although chilling, he knew it paled in comparison to the chill that would be felt if he went back on his no-fishing-today decision.

Time spent alone was not long in duration, as he was soon joined by another. The greeting alone told him it was one of the three sisters even before lifting his head to look her way, their language unusual—but perhaps the same could be said about his own mother tongue, by those unfamiliar with it. “Salutitsinik,” he said in return whilst stepping back from the water’s edge, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Did you come for a drink?” He wasn’t sure who the creator of the hole in the ice was and wondered, for a moment, if it could have been Ying. Was he imposing?

Aningan offered her more space, not wanting to block her access, should that be her reasoning for being there. At the same time, he asked, “What is that word you said?” He was curious, having heard it on two separate occasions now. What did it mean?

Aningan was taken aback by this, uncertain how he should feel about being given a new name. But, as she continued with her explanation, he was less shocked and more accepting. “Polar bear?” he questioned, seeking confirmation that he was thinking of the right bear. It made him wonder more so if she struggled to pronounce his actual name, as well as if her sisters did, too. To him, it was easy, but to those that struggled with the common tongue, he felt bad for expecting them to be able to say something from yet another different language.

When she questioned him in turn, he smiled and said, “It’s a greeting!” He then paused for a moment, thinking, before continuing. “I don’t know if it has a common translation. It’s just… something you say to greet someone.” There were a few words that he often struggled to translate but this time he doubted that a translation even existed. Or maybe his memory was just bad, he couldn’t be sure.

The boy cocked his head to the side when his appearance was pointed out. “Do I really?” he asked, unable to see it for himself. Through his own eyes, he appeared just the same as any other northerner. Did they all look like polar bears? His size, passed down through his paternal lineage, went unnoticed, as per usual; as far as he could tell, he was just your average wolf.

When she expressed interest in learning his word, the boy’s tail set to wagging. It wasn’t often that someone questioned the words he said, and even less common for them to ask more about it—he was excited, to say the least. “Salutitsinik,” he repeated, then broke it down. “Sah-loo-teet-see-neek.” He spoke slowly, drawing out each syllable so that she might better hear it, and then said again: “Salutitsinik.” All the while, his tail never stopped wagging, overjoyed to be sharing his language with someone new.

The bear could not help but chuckle as she demonstrated his size, amused by her antics. “This is how all of my people appear,” he tried to explain, a smile yet to leave his maw. “Maybe we all look like bears.” Although he still wasn’t entirely convinced, he didn’t further question or deny her claim; he couldn’t tell someone else to view him the same way he viewed himself, nor did he want to try and do so. Besides, he kind of liked her description—a bear could protect anything they wanted, right?

Aningan was a little disheartened by her inability to repeat the greeting back to him—but his spirits quickly rose back up when she requested another word. Maybe if he could teach her more, he would have someone else to talk to in his preferred language! “How about… nanuk?” he offered. “Polar bear.” It felt fitting for the situation. “Nah-nook,” he repeated, slower than when offering the word to her. It was far shorter than the last and, he hoped, easier for her to grasp.

And it seemed she had an offer of her own, which he was eager to accept. “I can try to learn,” he told her, open to making an attempt. Whether or not he would be successful, however, was an entirely different story.

When she repeated the word back, his grin was wider than ever before. “Yes, like that!” he said, praising her. It wasn’t perfect, not quite, but it was close enough and he was still proud of her, either way. Honestly, even if she completely butchered it, he would have been glad—because at least she was trying and putting in a good effort. “You can call me either,” he told her shortly thereafter, having no preference. Whatever she felt most comfortable saying, he would adjust to.

Aningan thought for a brief moment when she asked about her own appearance, then exclaimed, “Nuvujak! A cloud.” Pallid yet dusted with a saddle of grey tones, he could imagine her blending in well with clouds over the sea. “When we met, I thought your eyes resembled the sea—your sisters’, too.” The colour joined by the scent of salt on their pelts had, at the time, made it difficult for him to think anything else.

Soon, she was offering him a word of her own, which he rolled over in his mind multiple times before making any verbal attempts. “Hi—hee?” he paused, thought for a second, then continued. “Hee-young?” Aningan was not so sure of himself and smiled sheepishly after finally managing to get the word out.

Aningan peered down at her and nodded. “Yeah, they’re pretty,” he said. “It’s like having the ocean right here with us.” Having the three sisters together made it even better, too—the varying shades of blue mimicked the ocean perfectly, spread through the gazes of the trio. When she returned the sentiment, he said, “Thanks!” He liked his eyes pretty well, too. They were great for seeing things.

His tail wagged a little quicker following her approval. “I think your language is more difficult,” he admitted. “But it sounds nice. I’d like to learn more!” The more she taught him, the more he could teach her; although his dream of someday being able to communicate with her solely in his language—or hers—was hard to ignore, he knew it wasn’t likely to come true. But a boy could hope.

At the admittance of her sisters’ feelings, Aningan frowned—which only deepened, as she revealed how she missed the coast, too. “I’m sorry they’re sad,” he said in return, briefly averting his gaze. “I miss the coast, too. It was our home before it got angry. But… I don’t think we’ll be going back.” As much as he missed it and the memories made there, the coast was a home with too much baggage. The sea stole from them, threatened them—and the sea was Caiaphas’ home. He couldn’t imagine going back there, not after she was turned away from them. “This place isn’t so bad, though,” he said with a smile, trying to turn the mood back around. “Maybe your sisters will eventually be happy here!” Maybe if he showed them around some more, they would like it better?

It was only a matter of seconds after she suggested that they continue teaching one another and he was grinning ear-to-ear all over again. “I like that idea,” he said, agreeing. “There’s so much to teach.” And learn, he realised. Would he be able to say it all? He would give it his best shot.

The nod was enough to give him some fragment of hope; someday, they would come to enjoy the plateau, just as he did. It might take time but it would happen, he was sure of it now.

There would be much to talk about in the days that followed. Many things to both teach and learn—he wondered about what words he would teach her next, thinking over which might be the easiest to start off with. His train of thought was brought to a sudden halt as she decided to take her leave, however, a bit sad to see her go. “Be careful,” he advised. “See you later!” He watched her go, resisting the urge to follow. Only when she was out of sight did he turn and head in the opposite direction, towards the heart of the territory, thinking of more words to teach.