Barrow Fields pavva mauragak

What she said of Tulimaq was right and there was nothing to be said about him. It seemed a task to have Kukutux understand that Tartok people were a hardier sort than the children she herself was raising, that Kigipigak was of this instinctual tradition.

She thought her words were sweet, perhaps. That being soft was a blessing of some kind to make Kigipigak stand-out beyond what Tulimaq was; to the ears of the Tartok-born, it was the opposite. If he had not known Kukutux before she had said this of him, Kigipigak might have found offense. He knew better.

What has Tartok given you that Moonglow has not?

They gave me life! He could not help but bellow, and further afield the progression halted. Kigipigak's lively voice carried well across the field.

I am the youngest of my family to be named! I carry that honor. Where my kin failed, I succeeded. My mother is Sedna, matriarch of Unnuakvik, and — and what? None of it truly mattered. Sedna was not here to judge him. Unnuakvik had been home to him as a boy, then cast him out. What honor could be held by a man without a home?

Kigipigak's voice had cracked. The force with which he pridefully hoisted the story of himself, the Tartok name, and these pieces which had been so important for so long, finally began to ease.

You gave me a home. You put me back together when I nearly died. I am thankful for all that you have given me, and all that I have done to protect Moonglow. Moonglow is my home, it had become this, and was a better fit to Kigipigak than any place before it, which was exactly why his next words nearly choked him: but you are not an issumatar.