Shadow Mountain nalaktuk

A light snow had started to fall. It dusted Silanga across the shoulders with more white and aged her tremendously, although she did not notice. Her heart ached; she thought only of Anituk now and imagined how the man might react to seeing this mountain and its snowy paths.
She thought of his voice and the way it would carry songs. The many times his talking had broken the stillness of a hunt. How, when she had her bad days, he would make up stories so fluidly so that she would laugh! It was only stillness now — the falling snow all Silanga could hear.