Silver Moraine ikunapuga

often times it is hard to sympathize with others for tragedies that would never seem to strike oneself; placing yourself in the difficult shoes of others and walking miles on end is often tiresome and requires introspective thinking. shikoba is thankful for kigipigak's understanding at least and his words of condolence.

she lets out a breath for a moment, letting her shoulder brush against his in a quiet form of searching for comfort from the man. kigipigak has known mojag, and if he can hold faith that the boy will survive, then shikoba must be willing to put her own faith forward as mojag's mother. the world is cold, and despite the desire to keep mojag away from what is cruel, shikoba can only pray that the world leaves a few rays of light for mojag to thrive in.

"I hope so." 

shikoba has never been one to be the best at social cues, but she had a feeling that a heavy conversation is one that kigipigak would rather avoid. and so, she decides to change gears. "does kigipigak thrive with his family?" her tone is hopeful, wondering about the adventures of the man and his family upon the river. "your sons grow by the day."