Moonstone Quarry quqsuqtaq ⋞

That was one way to handle it, Kigipigak thought. If he took a wife and filled the bypass with his children, he would not necessarily have to displace Mahler. It felt wrong to entertain the thought of it; but again, it was the way his people operated.

Was he ready to follow those traditions or would he follow his own? It did not make him feel right either way. The man had opened his home to Kigipigak. Then again, so had Stjornuati, once.

The conversation slowed, quieted. Kigipigak was filled with many thoughts and many more questions, yet he chose not to voice them. They would keep him awake through the night when he would rather be sleeping.

You are right. He is old, he would know already the things that fill my mind. I do not doubt he would think of them before me, and yet he offers me this life. Kigipigak sighs, finding a new weight to everything now that Kukutux has made sense of it for him.

I will go back. I thank you for your counsel. May your spirits be kind to you, he murmurs, knowing that Kukutux is tied in some way to this realm he does not truly understand. Kigipigak hopes to see her again one day — and maybe then, he'll have more to tell her.