Duck Lake Before I can live with folks, I have to live with myself.

Angakkuq was unaware that some might question what had caused her personality - whether they were concerned about her withdrawn nature or the berserker's learned brutality was unsure - for it didn't seem worth asking. The story was plain, written in her coat with teeth and the words were open wounds. 

She'd been defiled. She'd been ruined. They had tried to crush tapeesa's petals and tear her up by the roots. The story was there if they were curious; the scars left behind that said she should not have had a voice left to hide.

Aqakuktuq seems confused by the word, rather than recognizing it for what it was. Tiqaqq's stsa' had begun to get the prickling inclination that the fisher too was Angakkuq and that perhaps what held the bird to her was spiritual. Her confusion over the word brings clarity and Uki looks again at the bird as it speaks, recognizing it now as a companion rather than an equal. She nods for she never saw a Tupilaq that was not in some way, more wild than its witch and fisher with her Pesi is possibly the tamest northerner she's met. 

"It's nice to meet you both," she's impressed that she can say it evenly, given that she's possibly never used a polite phrase in her life and her current exhausted state. "It'll be good to have others, there's only so many who can hunt or patrol."