Whitebark Stream anisitkaa ⪼

third-camp would be near to the village of natigvik.

as before, moonwoman used this place to strip the skins brought to her, to scrape them, to cure them.

she taught working-chants to the women; she was streaked with soil and sweat and blood, and deeply, deeply content.

in two seasons tooteega might move with another blessing for her and aiolos.

strong sons. fierce daughters.

she smiled and continued to pluck tissue from the underbelly of a caribou skin.

Natigvik was not bad.

She often bounced between the Issumatar and Moonwoman with tasks. Occasionally she stole glances at the boys of the village.

More often than not she was content in silence.

Only until she had her mother's ears, though.

The taiga is nice. Natigvik has a fine village.

There was more she wished to say but could not find it in her yet. Perhaps her mother would spot this hesitance.

kukutux did not like the sadness that seemed to cling to each daughter.

it had let sialuk on a path set by the mountain. it had sent kausiut to the village of walrus hunters.

where would it lead callyope?

"you miss mojag." it was a guess. that she said the boy's name openly told her daughter she believed that he still drew breath.

It stung.

She stared at the skin her mother worked at for a long moment. Silent. Looking.

She felt a million miles away in that silent moment.

I think I always will.

Until he returned. If he returned.

It is easier with distractions.

kukutux cut the side of the skin deftly with her teeth.

"you cannot wait for him, daughter." she looked into the solemn eyes and saw how her child had grown.

"if every woman waited for a hunter who walked upon a vision, we would have no young."

Pain and hurt.

It continued to be a wellspring she drank from. Each morning, each evening. When she needed a rest, when she felt lonely.

Her mother spoke truth. It only made it hurt all the more.

Maybe I will not.

It was not said to be rebellious. Merely her wellspring had flooded. Spilling over her pain and hurt.

But she did not cry. She did not yell.

Those were things she felt beyond in that moment.

kukutux smiled sadly. she pushed the skin toward callyope, resting her own jaws.

"it is good to see kigipigak. i am glad he came back before the winter." her eyes were warm. "you are not too young to set up fourth-camp, if you have the want."

They moved on.

She picked up on the work her mother left off. Only to be offered the gentle shock of the offer given to her.

You would let me?

kukutux nodded.

"yes. keep where your ears can hear my voice." but that was still some miles.

"follow the caribou. see where they live. tie your spirit to theirs. you too have hunter's blood in you, soft-snow."

She was embarrassed now. Flushed with the emotions of earlier and she worked her nerves out tending to the caribou.

Soft-snow.

I will see the taiga more with them. But perhaps she still sought to clarify with her mother, that she might rotate with the herd before a camp was settled.

She wondered what was to the northeast.

Some part of her cherished the idea of a snowy camp.

kukutux's eyes glimmered. "tell me when you have settled."

perhaps walking with brother caribou would settle the girl's spirit. "when you have chosen a place, decide who will go with you. sacrarium walks behind moonglow to natigvik."

I will welcome them in my camp.

Her tail betrayed her moodiness. Swaying long and low behind her tall legs.

The height of her father.

The thinness of mother.

Maybe I will find wayward hunters. Maybe I will see things as you do.

she looked as both of them, moonwoman and sun man.

and she was hardly child any longer.

kukutux saw how fast time leapt.

"i listen to the spirits. you do the same. they will tell you who you are, sea girl."

her heart was filled with love.