Ouroboros Spine chaguthil

The story was not one he had heard before — he lightly shook his head when prompted to respond. It was enough to keep his mind a little busy, for which he was thankful.

Kigipigak's people were not the kind that followed any set religion, be it pagan or natural in its variety; they followed the will of their Issumatar which was often hard-hearted, bloody, and lacking in imagination.

If they told stories it was to impress a battle standard upon the wayward anneriwok, or to expound upon a past battle and in turn, impress their fellow warriors. At least, those were the limits fo Kigipigak's understanding when it came to such tales.

What Iḷitqusiq spoke of now was none of those things.

Kigipigak had never wondered where the sea had come from, he only knew to avoid being swept away by it. He did not know why the sky turned dark with rain, or drew deep, deep breaths before the light came. He wondered as he listened, if there were stories for the ice and the snow, or if they all had names and reasons for being.

The tale was long, and in the end Kigipigak did not know if he should break the resulting silence himself or let it sit between them.