Emberflame Ridge xvi kinignik

Kigipigak was nearly an adult; he would have been further accomplished by now if he had stayed within Unnuakvik, either with one wife betrothed to him or with blood shed in battle. He should have been participating in the blood sport of his transitional phase. The trials, showing off his prowess and his maturation, which would culminate in him becoming a man. Instead he was here, shamed for following traditions he believed everyone carried with them, playing with himself and his bone.

Was it his fault? Had he somehow invited these changes to transpire? He had come up with the idea of Valmua being the issumatar and based it on the way his mother ran his home tribe; Sedna had beaten other women for the rank, chased them, and built a tribe worthy of the First's blessing. All that Kigipigak had wanted now was to elevate Valmua in the same way; was that not how the north was to be run? Had he been lied to, or was his village that far off the grid —

So his thoughts went; the bone dragging along or catching against debris he could not see. When it caught against a nook of knobby roots the momentum ceased and he nearly choked when it wedged far back between his teeth, gaping his maw wide. With a cough he released it and spun as if to attack; but there came a growling. It sounded wrong—sickly, dissonant—and as Kigipigak turned to face the sound he flashed his teeth.

Then he saw the bird, which was not what he had expected.