Barrow Fields pavva mauragak

It felt as though she did not listen to him. Kigipigak had not been a man of words until he had been forced in to it, and for a time found himself distracted by his own voice. Now, he could not say the right thing. He could not have Kukutux understand or accept the way the world was meant to be.

That she now demanded respect from him, as if he had not given it to her. As if she had not earned it long ago. Not as issumatar to his people, but as moon-woman... This was proof to Kigipigak that she could not understand. Her people relied on spirits and superstition; his upon muscle and bloodshed. There was respect to be found in both realms. He had vouched for his own loyalty to Moonglow already, and yet it was not enough.

Kukutux was no warlord; no blood-hungry matriarch. He could respect and follow her, but if summoned by a rightful matriarch of Tartok, he would have to obey. It was the way of his people for so many generations — and here was Kukutux, fighting against traditions she couldn't understand, no matter what Kigipigak said.

She had her own points to make, which Kigipigak did not want to hear. Her words would echo through his mind as the pair drifted apart; she would go her way, perhaps to pray or commune with spirits, and he would go another, his heart heavier than before.