Moonspear xii mikigak

she had heard him, distantly, muzzily. it marked her preparations for the morning: finding a wide strip of doeskin to wrap around her narrow shoulders, choosing sticks of dried elk meat and the summer's cured fish, laid to curl in the sun alongside raspberries.

all these things she brought with her in the skin, drifting down down the mountainpaths of moonspear until she took up the end of kigipigak's scent. kukutux followed with delight, passing through the verdant fragrance of the pines in a gait that knew the trails well. and when she came upon the kiggavik, the woman smiled brightly. 

for a moment the ache in her chest eased,

"ilitannamek," the duck murmured with a wave of her tail, noting the green smears upon his coat with amusement. tugging the hide from her shoulders, she nosed the jerky and cured fish toward her companion, waiting deferentially for him to taste what she had prepared.