Moonsong Glacier tuvaurat ⥳

here was gray brother buried, the trader to the first moonspear.

the brother to blackfox.

her kin.

and those of salt and mountain now.

it was to this sacred place that kukutux called @Saviguk, singing not his name but for the moon-hunter.

if you are truly my son, come to me.

the night was long. the air; her breath hung in the air, which was cold even amid summer's fiery heat.

blood marked her face from forehead to nose, marked the place of her heart.

she held the ivory piece that nuak had brought back.

and she began to sing;

nine nights the star and i cried
we cried to the dancing lights
we asked for sedna's arms
we asked she guide you through
through to the dancing lights

blackfox! do you see the moon hunter?
have you sent him back to me?

kukutux closed her eyes as tears wet her face.

Come to her he did.

As he said he would, he spent some time away. Close but not too close. He traveled past the mountains and to the distant coastline. And as promised, there he sought the icy waters. The ancestral tides of the ocean. There he bathed in salt and brine. Baptized and born anew in the very grasp of the same waters that had pulled him from this place.

Reborn but forever bearing the scars, gripped by Sedna, wrapped raw and glaring round his hind leg. To anna he came, bearing the scent of salt heavy and woven through his coat. He did not sing. Did not speak. He only stopped a wolfs length away, head bowed reverently.

Waiting for her judgement.

he came, this tupilak who wore the face of her son.

who wore his father's face.

he looked so much like the blackfox that kukutux felt her breath taken burning in her throat. he was the night's darkness and the green eye, the strongness of those who walked mountains.

ostrega

and her mind ached to think the names she had forbidden herself.

toteega.

lynx.

am i mother?

is he son?

daughter, beneath the bones over your heart.

touch this place.

it is where you know.

a flash of cats'-teeth, the sound of cracking sea ice in springthaw.

the memory of the long dark, of sedna's throat, of a birth passage.

all one.

all anaa.

"the one who is moon-hunter is dead."

her voice hung in the cold air.

"his name is dead."

the summer moon above the glacial ice.

"bleed. show to my eyes that while he is dead, you are not."

breath; catching; arms, pining to hold him.

With breath locked in his throat, he nodded, voiceless. He had not...would not speak his given name for the Moonwoman. That man was dead. 

"Bathed and born anew. So I shall wear a new calling of your choosing." His voice, as soft and masculine as ever. She need only bestow it. He need only her acceptance.

But before that, proof. In the form of blood, not dark mist, that flowed in his veins. Her command was heeded without hesitation. Curling around himself, stretched in a lanky ball of dark, sandy crested fur, he reached for the scars wrapped around his hind leg. Outstretching the limb, incisors clipped deep at the scarred over lines. Re-opening the rift where Sedna' own teeth had once latched down.

His blood...her blood...the blood of Ostrega trickled in crimson rivets down his leg, to drip onto the ground. Her bidding done, Saviguk took his judgment further, placing it right into her paws. To her he edged, scooting low. Then rolled, presenting himself prone on his back. 

I offer myself as your sacrifice. Take what you will of me.

his blood.

his blood.

and her mind strained for his name.

his face was his face.

but the blood was her own.

yes, the taste of salt upon her mouth.

yes, he bent before her.

"i called out to my son with the name of moon-hunter. now i will call him mauruk, He Who Breaks Through."

mauruk, mauruk;

suddenly she was upon the ground beside him, and her tears wet his fur, and she opened to him an embrace that she did not believe would ever happen again.

"Then, Mauruk is my calling." He affirmed in a soft voice. None would call him Saviguk again. That boy was gone. He born anew, a man. Mauruk. 

His mother came to him, openly. Wetness staining his fur. They were like the sea water. A low whine in his throat and he pressed to her, shaking from the touch he thought he would never feel again.

Now there was time. Time to grow, to heal.