Blackfeather Woods Atanniutivigivâ

Each child had shown interest in the tunnels in their own way—with the exception of Atshen. Clouded by his childish anger, he’d done nothing more than glare, which the elder Inuk held. As fire clashed, he’d growled lowly, warning the boy; the fact that the other children were there no longer mattered, he’d still punish his son right there in front of them. “Taima,” the man stated dryly. For now, his body remained as still as a statue, though within there was a storm brewing. All that he’d gone through with Alexander was still fresh in his mind and, even though he loved his son dearly, he didn’t want to go through that again. “Inittik, paggiak anânaket,” had been added, his tone just as curt as before. If he refused to show respect to his elders, then he would not be rewarded with a tour of the tunnels—simple as that, and Kove would not cave.

Looking to the other children, he’d nodded his head and motioned for them to follow, then began moving into the tunnel. “Keep close to me, or else you’ll be lost forever,” warned the father. Perhaps he was overreacting a bit, but, then again, it was a very real possibility. “There aren’t many places where you can see the further in we go, so you guys will have to use your other senses.” Within the tunnels, most everyone was blind, and so they’d needed to come up with other ways to navigate. Said methods would be taught to his children, that way they’d be able to use the underground system just as well as everyone else. “Keelut, tell me what you smell. Astrid, what do you hear?” he glanced over his shoulder, able to see them still, but not for much longer. “Abraxas and Atshen,”—assuming he hadn't run off—“what do you two feel?” Pausing, he’d waited to hear what their answers might be. Said replies would lead into the next part of their lesson, where he would inform them of what to keep an ear (or nose) out for.