Whitewater Gorge tulaktuk ‡

there was a comfort in a kinsman. perhaps in another world she would have been a cousin to him. or the one he sought. there was a roughness to the traveller that kukutux favored, and her small teeth shone in a little smile as he accepted her pronouncement and spoke of doing so. it did not seem known to him. perhaps the others in his ravenhome were not like she or he. friends, kigipigak had said. not blood. "atekai, kigipigak."

her own plume answering as the duck unfurled from her shyness, buoyed by his affable nature and the absence of a predator's leering in her direction. men often looked at her so; he offered a space without such. and so she too was loathe to depart. "aunngak," kukutux gestured, in the distance opposite where the man had pointed her. "sillak nikkuliuk." he had not the company of women, and so kukutux knew he would be pleased with a meal he did not need to prepare alone. 

"ikkamauk mamatsak utsuk?" kukutux murmured softly, nostalgically, unable to keep her gaze from the cut lip of the hunter. the fighter. a man led by ravens, she supposed. what was it like to have such freedom? even without a husband or the obligations of motherhood, a woman could never be so.