Sawtooth Spire Introduce a little Anarchy

What translator do you guys use? There's so many inuit languages D:

He had grown used to being roused early in the mornings, especially on a particular day every week. Not that he had any concept of weeks and days, but there was a certain routine emerging, he had found. The youngest had been in a deep sleep when Tonravik pressed her nose against his side, yet he woke suddenly and completely, blinking twice before looking to his mother. She was but a colossal silhouette in the dim light, but Sitamat did not panic like he would have done a few weeks prior.

"Anaana," he greeted his mother softly with a nuzzle to her chin. He found he could reach body parts he previously struggled to before, oblivious to the fact that it was because he was growing taller by the day. Accustomed to this routine now, the boy yawned widely and got to his feet, shaking out his coat and ready to follow Tonravik out to wherever she decided to lead him today.