For the first time since their relocation, Aningan ventured beyond the plateau and then beyond those lands that bordered it, trekking further than ever before. He told @Rosalyn before leaving, proclaiming that he was finally ready to see what it was like to be a scout. Each step made him more nervous than the last, worried that by leaving he might never find his way home again—so, to counter this, he followed the curvature of the range at his side, using the mountains as his guide; those peaks would lead him home again, too, he was certain. Trusting in them eased his mind, dulling the anxiety that twisted and turned within his chest.

Anxiety that bubbled over as he entered unfamiliar lands, festering with scents he did not recognise—but that instinct drove him to fear. Rigid, Aningan pressed onward, doing what he could to push through his worries. But his worries could not be banished, only covered, shrouded under a thin veil by the sight of another, lupine physique in the distance.

Clinging desperately to his curiosity, hoping that it would further relax him, the male trailed after the other. Only when he was near enough to be heard did he loose a bark or two, seeking a conversation—information, perhaps, on the land they both found themselves in.

When the female turned to face him, Aningan slowed to an eventual stop. Something about her seemed familiar and he wondered if they met before but, as she spoke, he decided that wasn’t the case; she did not seem to share the same feeling or, if she did, it wasn’t betrayed in either her words or posture. She was rather blunt with her questioning instead, which unsettled him. Was he wrong to be there? The scents that filled the land did not remind him of those coating the plateau, so he doubted it was claimed—but if not claimed, then why was this woman so brash?

“Ingiggak—” he answered first, rushed. “No, uh… I’m scouting.” He corrected no longer than a second later, finding his bearings. “Why are you here?” Was she there for the same reasons?

A step was taken towards him, making his body go rigid—but as she continued to speak, he slowly started to relax. Whilst he was there for the sake of travel alone, she was there for a reason; her children were missing and she wished to find them, and he wondered if that may have been the reason for her former bluntness. “I haven’t seen any children,” he told her, despite not being asked. Where or who they may be, he didn’t know and doubted he could be of any help.

Thankfully for him, the topic shifted, and it was his turn to be surprised. “You know it?” he asked, instantly curious. “It’s my family’s language. I’m from the north—more north than here, I mean.” Although he wasn’t from the true north like the uppik, he was still from a place further than where he currently resided. “Are you from the north, too?” To meet another of his people was an exciting thing, and he was eager to find out more.

The recognition of the language meaning she understood it was confirmed—she, too, was of northern blood. And while he didn’t understand the significance of the name she gave, he did pick up on a single part of it—“Aningan Tundra?” he questioned first, wishing to be assured that he heard correctly. “My name’s Aningan.” He wondered if the name was common up north, to be given both to him and to a pack. This he did not ask, however, feeling that it lacked any true significance. Besides, she had another question, one that he was a bit more hesitant to answer.

“I’m from a glacier,” he said first, after which his brows furrowed. What was the name again? “IkKasuk?” he said, uncertain; he could remember the meaning but the name itself escaped him at first. “No, maybe not that… um... IkKanattuk?” That sounded more like it. “I think they called it IkKanattuk.” He used to think the name to be ironic, given that he’d always felt the opposite there.

All it took were a few words to be spoken and the boy’s blood ran cold. His legs locked and he felt his body grow rigid, brows pinching together as he was overtaken by an array of emotions. He didn’t even recognise her, the time since passed having eaten away at his memories; he was so young when he left, he was so young when he last saw her. Without realising it, he took a step back, body acting on its own accord. Why was she there? So close to his home? “What are you doing here?” he asked, easily slipping from the common tongue. “Why aren’t you up north, with everyone else?” Why did she have to show up so suddenly?

“I’m not going back,” he declared suddenly, shaking his head. “You guys didn’t want me but my new pack—my new family—does.” Should he run? Prevent her from trying to lure him away? His legs refused to move, remaining just as stiff and rigid as the rest of him. Was she the reason his sister disappeared, so long ago? Had she taken her away?

The male was taken aback, brows pinching together and gaze drifting past her. “The glacier is gone…?” He couldn’t believe it—were the storms inland just as bad as they were on the coast? She spoke of Rusalka, of having gone to the coast in search of him, only to be turned away. “What leader?” he asked, eyes focusing back on her. “Who didn’t let you?” He had a feeling he knew who it was—the only one that would have, to keep her children safe. But he didn’t want to believe it. It was easier to believe that Takiyok never sought him out, that she never tried to see him.

“Where’s everyone else? Why aren’t you with them?” More questions—each with an answer that he wondered to himself if he even wanted to know. “And what children? You didn’t have children before.” The only ones there were him, Tunerk, and Sos. “Do you know where Tunerk is? And Sos? If you’re here… they should be here, too, right?” Suspicion became desperation—he wanted his siblings back. He missed Tunerk so much and he couldn’t even remember when he last saw Sos. Would he recognise him, if he saw him?

She said she wanted him—and he felt his eyes began to sting. “No one there wanted me there,” he repeated, trying more so to convince himself than her. “Did my mom even look for me? Why didn’t you make them let you into Rusalka?” It was unrealistic to think that she could have but he needed a reason to be upset. He needed a reason to assure himself that he was right, that he left for the right reasons.

Blackhead. Even without a name given, he knew who she referred to—Caiaphas. The one that found him, the one that welcomed him to the coast—the one that provided him with a new family, although that family no longer included her. How she spoke of her, the expression she took on, made his own harden; he cared for Caiaphas, even to this day, despite everything that transpired. That noted anger kept his mouth shut, her name being left a mystery to his aunt—he would not be another to betray her.

When she continued, she spoke of more relatives; his memories of them were dim, faces faded, but names known. Another name, too, was known—“Easthollow?” he questioned, seeking clarification. “I was told by… family… that my dad is there, too. Did you know?” Did that mean, should he ever seek the elder man out, he would run into Sia, too? He knew even less about his uncle than he did his aunt—would he recognise him? Part of him hoped he wouldn’t, whilst another felt… confused. But those were the only two remaining, the news of Tahani’s passing shared. And although he knew he should feel something for her, after hearing about that—she was family, there was shared blood between them—he couldn’t. There was nothing to be felt, no sensation of loss or remorse, not an ounce of grief. For Aningan, it was the same as if a stranger passed because, at the end of the day, that is all any of them were to him now.

Children were mentioned, cousins he would never meet; only one was given a name, the rest seemingly either dead or gone. But his interest in them simply wasn’t there, unable to form, overpowered by the need to know of his siblings. What became of them? Were they well? So many questions, a budding hope—squandered by her words. “So Tunerk and Sos are… gone?” he asked, albeit rhetorically. “If you don’t know where they are… they aren’t with you, then—” Tunerk was on the coast with him before, then vanished into the night. He hoped she was safe, that no ill fate befell her, but he worried most for Sos. Did his brother make it off of the glacier? Would he see either of them again? Suddenly, he was wishing it was one of them standing before him now, rather than Takiyok.

An apology for his feelings—but were those feelings less so that and more fact, than anything? Aningan could see it no other way, his belief from the moment he left the glacier up until now is that he was unwanted; something thought for so long and the feelings that stemmed from it could not be abandoned at the drop of a pin. That hurt he carried with him, covered by the safety felt through Rusalka, came rising to the surface at the mention of his mother; the root of it all, her favourtism noticed early-on. “You don’t have to say sorry,” he stated, voice strained and eyes searching—searching for anything to settle on that wasn’t her. “She was Tunerk and Sos’ mom, not mine.” Saying it aloud, hearing his own voice mutter such words, hurt; the ache was fought away, his determination to ignore it overwhelming. The bear could feel himself fading, attention seeking anything and everything else that it could find, anything to remove himself from the conversation.

“You don’t have to apologise,” he repeated, words forced. “Maybe it’s better you didn’t go against her. Maybe it’s better I stayed with Rusalka.” He loved them, after all. Whilst he might not always agree with the pack as a whole, he could see himself nowhere else. “Rusalka is my family. Everyone there… they are my family. They care for me and I care for them.” They were his family, his pack. He promised to stay with them, to protect them and care for them. “I’m happy with them.”