Big Salmon Lake mist mountains sing and beckon

Gwyn padded along the snow-dusted banks of the lake, amber eyes tracing the glimmering surface of the water. The chill in the air bit at her skin, but she didn’t mind; the frost felt refreshing against the warmth of her fur. The lake’s surface was just beginning to freeze over, its edges still unfurling icy tendrils like delicate lacework.

She paused for a moment, letting the wind ruffle her thick, ginger-colored coat, inhaling the crisp scent of ice and earth. The air was so pure here, the kind of air that filled her lungs with each breath and made her feel grounded, connected.

Turning her attention back to the water, Gwyn watched as a ripple disturbed the frozen edges, hinting at some unseen creature beneath the surface. Perhaps a heron, or one of the many fish still lurking in the shallows before the ice thickened. Her ears twitched, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

Hi! Hope this is OK! Incoming sad man.

It would be the man's life-long pursuit to reunite his family in some capacity, and he already felt the weight of his failures submerging his hope, drowning it. He had failed so many times, with so many lives; and now that he was without home, without alliegance, without wife or family, Kigipigak was truly unmoored. He was despondent rather than boisterous; his features glazed-over with a blank expression where before, perhaps he'd have been stern, or even charming. He felt nothing, and the nothingness followed him from the village and away.

He did not know where to start looking for Akmaaksi or Tautukpik. He did not know if looking for them was even worth the time! It was a horrible thought but they had run from him when he had returned to their village, and so that was a clear enough message to make Kigipigak doubt himself. Akkuma had been the first to run. Kivaluk had not—but he had been lost to Moonglow, eventually, regardless.

South he went, plotting a course without finding sign of his youngest children. He knew the further he went the less likely he would see them; maybe that was why he chose this path? They might be happier without him. And so in time he came to the edge of a lake, and the taste of the water in the air—chilled by winter and sharp as it was—brought to mind only more of Kigipigak's troubled thoughts.

He imagined Ariadne. He thought she stood there, now, beside the lake. There was someone there, and in the winterlight she looked like— Ariadne?

The name pulled from the pit of his belly, falling from his lips like a gasp.