Qeya River atiga

It was long overdue for @Malrok and @Attuaserk to be given their true names.

Kigipigak had been so focused on keeping @Sakhmet well fed that he'd let the tradition slip from his mind. Now though, as he returned to the ulaq by the river with a fat salmon dragging in the dirt with its tail in his mouth, Kigipigak knew it was time. They would soon be old enough to escape their mother's watchful eye; not long after that, he'd be training them to hunt, to fight, to be men.

It was all happening too fast for Kigipigak to savor any of it. It didn't help he was often hard at work, and thus had yet to truly bond with either son.

He approached the ulaq and left the fish by the door, making a low sound to alert his family of his arrival, and to invite them out for a chance to experience the world.

attuaserk's excitement — though stubborn determination and reckless abandon might be more accurate — to explore the world just outside the mouth of the den is hard to rival. it grows day by day as he becomes more aware of himself, of malrok, of his parents and the fact that his world did not exist solely in the birthing den.

it's the smell of fish that draws attuaserk's attention from the squirrel tail he was growling at and 'attacking' but it was the low sound kigipigak makes that causes him to abandon his plight of play and gallop — as awkwardly as he could with his too big paws — to greet his father.

he does so with a few growling yips of excitement, tail wagging behind him furiously.

The first-born son would also be the first to be named, evidently. The child saw his father and moved to greet him; Kigipigak was enthralled as he watched, and looked to the door of the ulaq in case Sakhmet came also, or the other boy. When only Attuaserk was the one to meet him - racing at a gallop while his tail spins like a little propeller - Kigipigak made a low welcoming noise.

My boy. I have brought you fresh meat. It was meant to be shared but with the other child perhaps asleep, Kigipigak figured it would be better the fish not be wasted. Attuaserk could have his fill of it; he was growing like a weed already, and the additional nourishment would tip the scales in his favor should the twins ever compete in earnest.

Come, eat! He would observe the boy a little longer. It was only right, so that the proper name be bestowed.

the welcoming noise encourages attuaserk; attention warring between his father and the meat his father has brought. for him, his father clarifies causing attuaserk's chest to puff out with undiulted pride and importance. mine, attuaserk thinks to himself, teetering on the edge of lunging for it or waiting for the invitation to eat. he ends up not needing to wait long as kigipigak soon encourages him to dig into the fish.

attuaserk drawls in a deep breath before he digs into the fish without reservation, trapping it between his paw and the ground as he tears at the meat with eagerness.

While the boy ate, Kigipigak prepared other objects for him to look at. It wasn't the typical manner in which a wolf of Tartok was granted their first name — it was in part, inspired by Kukutux who he loved like a mother, and Sakhmet, and the other people he had briefly come to know during his days within these wilds.

The boy worked at the fish flesh and would not take long at all. When only the head was left to chew on, Kigipigak made a noise to draw Attuaserk's attention again. He had produced various objects - some grabbed in haste and others carefully extracted from the surroundings of Qeya River - so that there was a series of items aligned before him, as if Kigipigak were some old world peddler of goods.

In order, there was: A beztine from an antler polished and pale; a collection of curiously colored river stones rich with red, gold, and some green; a piece of hide with colorful feathers laid atop; lastly — and this Kigipigak was careful to place, just as Attuaserk turned his eye upon the lot of them — bones of varying size, stacked with care.

Kigipigak did not say anything. He waited and watched Attuaserk, curious which pile would draw his eye the most. While he did this, @Malrok appeared at the mouth of the ulaq and was drawn out, towards the strong smell of fish. Kigipigak gave a small sound to the boy to both draw him close, and caution him not to interrupt. It would be his turn soon.

it does not take attuaserk long to polish off the fish; nor for malrok to make an appearance. a glimpse is offered to his brother before his attention strays back to his father where it lingers. studiously, watching as things are placed before him; curious objects.

it feels monumental, as he is encouraged to draw nearer and pick one.

pale, frostbound silvered gaze studies the trio of objects; deliberating. he tests the air with his flaring, black leathery nostrils; head bowing close as if this might help him to make a decision.

in the end, he is drawn to the carefully stacked bones, shifting his body to face them; silently gesturing to them all the assurance and confidence he can muste; unwavering that these bones of varying sizes are his choice.

The boy looked interested in his brother a moment, then moved on to the various piles for inspection. Kigipigak wondered what he would choose - what he might do with the objects, beyond studying them. He wondered if his son would seek the antlers as a king might seek a crown; maybe the stones would appeal to him for their rich colors, or the feathers for their softness. He did not know what he hoped for and found, as Attuaserk scoped out these objects, he did not care what the boy chose. It was a monumental moment to witness his first becoming.

His son, his first born. Alive, healthy, making a choice he did not fully understand. He went for the bones.

Kigipigak was not as surprised by this choice. The boy was a strong mixture of both himself and Sakhmet, it felt fitting that he would choose something with a more spiritual leaning. Bones could be read, they could be carved, they could be eaten during the lean times for their marrow; they represented survival above all, to Kigipigak. His son was choosing such a life.

You are no longer Attuaserk, first born to the hearth of @Sakhmet. Kigipigak announced this with authority while the boy's gaze lingered upon him. They shared a glance. Your name is Kivaluk, and you are my son. As I have been named for my unbreakable spine, you are named for that first piece upon the column. Take your favorite bone from the pile - that is yours, to show your mother.

there's a notable shift in his father as attuaserk casts pale gaze up to him; seeking something he cannot quite put a paw to. approval, perhaps? nevertheless, pride blossoms in his chest as the patriarch crowns upon him his new name. kivaluk with an authoritative tone that drapes upon the boy's shoulders like an invisible mantle.

kivaluk. kivaluk.

kivaluk — the boy repeats his name; parroting it back with affirmation.

a soft noise of confirmation is given moments before he gives a small knock of the pile over with a nudge of his nose, grasping the bottom bone betwixt his jaws: the foundation, the strongest. if it had even been a little off kilter, the others would not have remained so steady. they'd have teetered; unable to stand.

though this deeper meaning goes over the newly named boy's head, it remains nevertheless prevalent in his choosing all the same.

drawn by the distinctive tang of fish scent, malrok drifted from the den's mouth to where his brother and father convened with a look of mild curiosity shining in his pale eyes. the remnants of the fish drew a cursory glance, then the faces of attuaserk and their father. an air of significance permeated amid the pair, but malrok had arrived too late to hear his brother's new moniker. nor was he intrigued enough by this development to seek after an answer, not when his gaze found the offerings procured by his father.
malrok stepped toward the delightful assortment of treasures in all their myriad colors and shapes. he lingered over each of them; he traced the shape of the ivory fragment of antler, took in the faded scents of the bones, nudged the smooth river stones to separate the rarities, nosed through the feathers until the teasing tickle of them against his nostrils made him sneeze. fortunately he drew back in time to avoid scattering them.
in the end he was drawn back to the stones. he swept the three he'd chosen close to him, claiming them for his own. the stones wrought in the most unique colors and shapes, the stones whose surfaces shone with strange textures. these were the treasures he chose.

The boy took his choice of prize and settled back with it. Now it was time for Malrok - often chasing after his brother, only a step short in most instances. For now he proved interested in the piles; Kigipigak studied the way he moved in flitting spurts of interest from pile to pile, like a hungry salmon seeking a path upstream.

Malrok showed interest in so much of what was offered. The bones, the feathers, the rocks - ah, and these he came back to, carefully extracting his favorites. Kigipigak was pleased by what he saw.

Then the boy looked to him.

You like those stones? They are from our river! Do you see the reds? The river belly is rich with clay, and so are they. He hadn't studied the pieces in-depth after gathering them, but recalled some were earthen and some were moody blues.

You are no longer Malrok, born to your mother's hearth. Today you become Akkuma, my son. Tenacious as the salmon that swim against the current - named for the heart that bleeds, flowing like our precious river.

His voice is booming, but then quiets. Go, take those to your mother, show her your prize.

In case you both want the meanings behind the names... :>

KIVALUK is a direct word from Inupiaq which denotes the first vertebrae of the spine.
AKKUMA was created by fusing elements of different words: AUKKUN means blood vessel; KIKU is the word for clay (but kikuyat/kiiguyat references the northern lights); UUMA means "live coal" but can also have alternate meanings (uumak means "green wood", uumman means "heart" for example).

kivaluk retreats a bit, as malrok moves then to make his choice. frostbound gaze watches his brother deliberate for a moment before his gaze turns to his choice: his namebone, that talisman that would be carried with him throughout his life — and when death came for him, he would be sure it was buried with him as well. his attention is drawn once more to kigipigak and malrok as his brother makes his choice, listening quietly as his brother, too, is given his name.

akkuma.

at kigipigak's direction, kivaluk scoops up his bone betwixt his jaws and carries it proudly to sahkmet to show her and give her his new name.

New names were bestowed upon the boys.

She had kept an ear out, listening and catching glimpses of what she could. She believed this was a vital moment between father and sons. Sakhmet had only stepped into his world with their union.

But now she looked upon them all.

Kigipigak. Kivaluk. Akkuma.

Kivaluk! She would boom with love as he approached, eyeing the mighty prize he had picked from the pile. Your father has named you proper, A kiss on his crown.

Patiently, she waited for Akkuma. Tail swaying behind her as she prompted him closer.

akkuma. the heart that bleeds.
the boy accepted this new moniker in thoughtful silence. the heart that bleeds. he did not understand it, but he wanted to. his own silver eyes were solemn and glazed with a far-away sheen as he followed his father's commands. he stood on ceremony with the air of one whose mind drifted elsewhere, a thousand miles at sea.
the heart that bleeds.
he went to his mother with stones in tow, delicate with his teeth now that he had begun to grasp some of the importance of them. his thoughts remained with his father's words, however. he needed to know; he needed to understand.

I'll wrap this & archive this soon if you're all good with that! By the end of June most likely. If you want to keep replying though, go for it!

Kigipigak waits for his second son to confront his wife, and after a moment alone for her to witness both their prizes and learn of their names, he followed to meet them.

Seeing them together—Sakhmet standing with both sons before her, fixated upon one-another—fills Kigipigak with a sensation he has no name for.

He has known pride, and love, and the fixation of loyalty. He has known adulation. He feels all of these things now and so much more, bundled tightly in his chest, as he looks upon his small but mighty family.