Silver Moraine ikunapuga

the backbone rumbles his greeting and shikoba comes to press her nose against his shoulder in a kind greeting and as thanks for his compliment. in many ways it felt as if her grief was a shadow that came and went as it pleased. some days it wore on her shoulders heavily, under her bags of yellow eyes that barely glowed. other days, the grief would be the shadow of a mouse, following her, but something more manageable to ignore.

today, it wraps itself around her neck when kigipigak speaks of mojag. any mother would feel grateful that not only their child remembered, but held to a higher standard of behavior and skill. her heart ought to beat with pride for her son, but yet all she feels is something shatter once more in the deeper chambers of her ribs. "kigipigak looks strong, natigvik grows. moonglow remains strong." she says quietly as she looks off in the distance for a moment.  "but I struggle."

"mojag has gone off, and shikoba does not know why," she answers honestly to the winter hawk, "and inutsuk has left Moonglow. he came back as a spirit, not whole." the loss of her husband and son, both of which held great importance to her. shikoba is not sure what to think at this point other than that she is to blame. she is the only common denominator between the two, or at least that's what she thinks. 

"shikoba is scared, winter comes closer." would mojag even know what to do without his mother during this time? shikoba hoped that he has learned much during this time, and prayed that each day that passes brings her closer to his reunion with moonglow.