Ouroboros Spine ugguanik ⏞⏟

THE SEVENTH SONG

listen.

tooteega, shuffling forward. the old she-wolf's gaze was a sharp knife she slid between kukutux' ribs.

daughter.

the elder wore a wrap of white fur. with her came the scent of the rich wet earth waiting to thaw beneath the sun.

your son is dead.

this time kukutux wept, for the losing of a hunter was one thing. but her boy had not yet come to that age; she had not sent him out among the young men, where he might learn the secrets.

sialuk must begin the training for irnisiksiiji. you must teach her a new healing, new medicines. you see how she has kept you alive? she is ready.

and this, the seventh night of mourning. in two more, kukutux must be finished. she must pick up the threads of her life.

i will be widow.

tooteega scoffed, spitting into the snow.

a fertile widow.

but the edges of her heart were cold.

i do not want a husband.

the old woman's breath seemed to hang in the air.

two dead. aya. perhaps it is a curse.

a pause.

or perhaps you are not made to be a wife.

kukutux felt her throat constrict.

but it is all i have known.

it is time to know new things, daughter.

quick breaths to punctuate the meandering song. the moon's arms were beginning to grow empty.

do you hear, beloved spirit?

it is the moon of white hawks —

their wings bear you to the dancing lights now.

you crawl out of the sleeping place of sedna.

open your eyes and see.

your journey is almost at an end.

your journey is almost at an end.