Silvertip Mountain we'd go swimming, we'd climb trees

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The sound was distant, but unmistakable. Against his better judgement Kigipigak would struggle to his feet and pivot in the ulaq; his alert eyes and ears hoping to hold on to that sound in the air.

Then, it faded.

He would sit there staring at the distant trees and graying sky. Whether @Kukutux was there administering medicine, or @Iḷitqusiq with a story, the agitation and focus of Kigipigak would be hard to ignore.

A second call — a third!

So distant, but they were real, they were her.

Breathing quickly, Kigipigak canted back his own head and tried to call out to her — to send some form of message back — and while the sound gathered within the ulaq there was no way for him to tell if Sakhmet could hear it.

It hurt to take that breath, hurt again to expel it.

From that point on Kigipigak would sleep in the mouth of the ulaq, his body wedged at the cusp of the opening. His head snaking outside of it, listening intently to every little sound upon the mountain.

Hoping to hear her again.