Whitewater Gorge tulaktuk ‡

for @Kigipigak <3 other tags for ref!

she had whispered to @Jarilo her intentions to find a gift for the children. soon it would be sigingilak, and she would anchor herself at home. but today the wife rose, wrapped her shoulders with the worn red foxfur, and set out to discover something beyond moonspear.

something beyond herself and the memories that threatened her lips with the trader's name. she would be back before evening, restless and sodden with sorrow, kukutux now stared down over a gorge of foaming water. the spray caught at her cheeks, her eyelids; she did not look away, wondering if sedna too swallowed the river as she did in the duck's homeland.

The Watch had been difficult to reach but Kigipigak and Valmua had been successful. Afterward he rested the night and spent the following morning expanding upon his knowledge of the mountains.

The ravens led him down and across a range of cliffside and then up again from the vale between, until he was among the furthest peaks from where the brother-sister duo slept. From there Kigipigak could look down upon the valley; he thought of the fawnboy he had tested, of the ghost he had met, and followed the ravens further.

Kigipigak lost them to the whitewater. Their forms vanished among trees while he stared at the river and the shapes formed there upon the rocks. Kigipigak could smell bear and thought it odd, as the nanuk was the only beast that came to his mind and they persisted further north.

He investigated a narrowing of the shallows for further clues, and upon raising his head Kigipigak saw a white shape with more solidity than the foaming caps, then a flash of red, and thought Valmua had followed him.

Inu-gik-suk! You follow all the way? He grinned wide, reminded of all his fantasies and hopeful Valmua had come with such things in mind.

what if — her toes curled upon the cold muddied edge —

pretty girl, a masculine voice brushing out into the far reaches of the duck's senses, and she pulled her jadestone gaze from the feral waters to look back along one slim shoulder toward the speaker. he wore a tall frame and a pale coat resembling her own, though it bore traveling-stains. eyes like a downing sun; a scar upon his lip.

inu-gik-suk; it rattled between her own teeth and she dipped her head beneath the relief soaking into her arteries, turning more fully toward the snowfurred man as kukutux dipped in deference. "qayam kangaan kimiku," she murmured in return, a formal greeting and one meant to explain her presence here as she veiled her curiosity with a demure glance downward.

Finally — 

A woman who spoke like him, who looked like him! It was not Valmua and so Kigipigak's hopes of a dalliance were swiftly dashed. It was someone fair and sweet-smelling; she spoke smoothly and it was like listening to birdsong for the first time. 

Iglaa gu runa. His chin tips up for a moment, grin faltering, and he shakes out his mantled shoulders. All part of the display. Sedna atchigaa Kigipigak, Unuakvik—miu.

As that sinks in Kigipigak looks upon the woman, draws closer despite any sense of propriety either might feel, and tastes the air. Draws it forth from her nape with a whiff. The fox skin is well tended and carries more information upon it. Much wolf scent; mountain air, sweet-smell, and the shocking twist of ice with salt.

Tagium sinaa miu? It is strikingly familiar to Kigipigak.

the sound of his step closer hitched the breath tightly in the duck's throat. she had watched him from the corner of her eyes, how he seemed to become larger, somehow; the joviality in his voice and the roll of his words reminded her, somehow, of the smiling traders who had come to the island. he had come from a village too, and in her soul she felt the little spirit grow delighted.

"inua atchigaa kukutux, siqiniq-miu," the duck answered in turn a bit breathlessly, at last daring to let her eyes drift as high as his cheekbone. this was a man of her own world. he would not ask that she say the names of those gone to the dancing lights.

kigipigak was wild, the scent of stone and forest and wind filling her throat. a traveler. a trader. "ukiu-tkik," kukutux rejoined with a nod; had it been so long since she had left the isle with its falling rocks and the death ulax she had built for those lost? but it was good to speak again, good to feel the old words thriving upon her tongue. "akkupaurak, hnukuq moonspear."

Kigipigak did not know of this village, but he did not know of many outside of Unnuakvik, or any place that was not ruled by a matriarch of his bloodline. It was a limited view that fit for someone of his age; had he been home with his mother upon the ice then maybe he would find a wife there, or partake in the blood games between the older men.

He was here instead. There was no returning to the way things were before; it did not feel real until Kigipigak was standing with this other woman, the antithesis of his mother, who somehow embodied everything that was left behind at the same time.

Moonspear, he repeated to himself. 

Ikpigak tuvakataitchuk. Ilannak anuniakti kukiluktuk tulugak-miu, ah, The words flow from his lips and as Kigipigak comes to specifics he falters in his speech, turning to direct her attention over the mountains the way he had come. 

Tulugak-miu itcha managaarak. Perhaps she could be of help to him. It did not occur to Kipigiak that she may be interested personally to any extent, he only saw a woman and he knew it was a woman's job in his own tribe, this matchmaking. By her own admission Kukutux had lived here longer too—perhaps she knew how to help.

kukutux followed the trail of his muzzle as he spoke. ravenhome; this place of unmarried men that seemed nestled high in the mountains. steep, he had said. a flick of her ears as she considered this, and looked over kigipigak with a gaze that assured her of his strength. they were not of the same kith, but it mattered not to the duck; their words were the same. "ilvit nukatpiak," she said softly in response to the welcome rush of his voice, not wanting to speak so much as was unbecoming for a woman.

a village of men catches no fish, her grandmother might have said. men were capable in groups as hunters, but not for the everyday tasks that knit a clan together. and by what he had said, the traveler had no women in this ravenhome. or perhaps none that could be wives. this was borne upon kukutux and her assumptions of his age, of his distance from his claimed lands; had he come down to look for one, she supposed? would that sialuk was older, kukutux might have at once encouraged the match. "tuttu," the duck mused, looking again toward his home, then back to kigipigak. "uxtil." when a man of her village wanted a wife, he made sacrifice to the gods and asked. would the same be for this iglaak and his customs? "annaumanasungniq." a compliment, but one of guidance. he would not be long lost.

She told him to.. hunt? This was a surprise to Kigipigak. His people, the Tartok, were not a superstitious kind and they did not teach their children to be thoughtful of the spirits, not like other tribes. That told Kigipigak that this Kukutux was of a different place in the north; he was suddenly curious of her, wondering if she knew of Tartok beyond his single village. They were known to pillage through the homes of others after all.

It would be wise not to mention them, he thought next, so he did not. 

Uxtil... To shed blood of something would bring wives to their door? A custom he did not know. Kigipigak could learn this; perhaps it was something that the women do, a part of the match-making he was not supposed to know of, as a man.

Annaumanasungniq, she said; a compliment. He smiles.

Kuyaruk, Kukutux. Kigipigak says with a dip of his head, his gaze sweeping from her away, to the water, the foam that swirled the surface. A place like this which they now shared would have been a good spot for fishing—there had been one such place near Unnuakvik; his mouth filled as he salivated at the memory.

Kuviasruktuk; nakuu sima ruk uxtil, savak taksragi giga. His tail waves at his hocks, he watches the water flowing and imagines it taking bloom with the red bellies of fish, the flowing of blood. Kigipigak takes a deep breath and basks in the crisp air rolling off the river as well as the familiar qualities of Kukutux, not wanting to leave her yet.

Iglaak tatkik-ayak-miu pakittuk. Itnasik?

there was a comfort in a kinsman. perhaps in another world she would have been a cousin to him. or the one he sought. there was a roughness to the traveller that kukutux favored, and her small teeth shone in a little smile as he accepted her pronouncement and spoke of doing so. it did not seem known to him. perhaps the others in his ravenhome were not like she or he. friends, kigipigak had said. not blood. "atekai, kigipigak."

her own plume answering as the duck unfurled from her shyness, buoyed by his affable nature and the absence of a predator's leering in her direction. men often looked at her so; he offered a space without such. and so she too was loathe to depart. "aunngak," kukutux gestured, in the distance opposite where the man had pointed her. "sillak nikkuliuk." he had not the company of women, and so kukutux knew he would be pleased with a meal he did not need to prepare alone. 

"ikkamauk mamatsak utsuk?" kukutux murmured softly, nostalgically, unable to keep her gaze from the cut lip of the hunter. the fighter. a man led by ravens, she supposed. what was it like to have such freedom? even without a husband or the obligations of motherhood, a woman could never be so.

Kigipigak began to nod in agreement, eager to return this way and not only find what he sought for Valmua, but for a meal to fill his belly too. It was fortunate that he had found Kukutux. 

The boy laughed, remembering the taste of course, but mostly the smell. Uksruk mammittuk akkaa! The elder women would want to slather that on the young men, have them nearly bathe in it! A hunter's trick, they said. More likely a trick to entertain them as they faded.

his laughter was persuasive. and she remember the bloat of seal bile upon her nose as well. it was best frozen, else the musk would carry forth on one's tongue for a long while. "mamagik malitjuagak!" the wife chuckled. a horribly bitter brew of chewed green things from the cold beach, mosses and lichens, it was intended to drive out the sickness from a child very quickly. 

a sigh, a comfortable roll of her shoulders. perhaps their time would come to a close soon, but kukutux held a seed of happiness in her heart for these moments. "kiggavik," the duck said softly, giving kigipigak a fond-name at once —

had the trader returned to speak with her?

an intake of breath, lashes fluttering. "kauvuk katimak. anittâ!"

Kiggavik—? Oh, he liked that.

Nobody had given him a name before (other than his mother) and Kigipigak was struck by the power in that moment; it was something he felt singularly unto himself, mentally tying him in this new way to Kukutux, and he was quiet for a moment.

He listened as she breathed, as she spoke, and agreed.

Unitchaa Kukutux, agiruk—uvliruk katmiksuk. For good measure Kigipigak leans close and draws a breath of her, fills his lungs with the sweet smell that lingers there and the musk of dry fox skin. 

As he draws back he murmurs, Aullaktuk uumakna.

a moment of reverent silence, and then kigipigak had come closer, taken the measure of her with another flare of his nostrils. kukutux was not perturbed this time; she was shyly pleased that the man sought to commit her to memory.

and that he accepted her invitation. "tavvauvutit, kigipigak." greensward eyes were warm; kukutux would watch until his proud pale form faded from view and then she too would travel away, back toward moonspear empty-pawed but with her heart lighter than it had been since the demise of the trader.