Silver Moraine The Paths Others Have Trod

The stone steps he found himself on were rough. He still kept nuutuittuq in sight and yet to the north he thought there was only sea. He hoped to see more from the rise of the glacier, was curious about the ice and the cold and let that guide him. It was not time to return home, fear had not yet overtaken him that it would never be time. He knew he was lost, but because he had no destination in mind he did not feel it. Still that comforting feather beside his ear and he let it ruffle in the wind, refusing to dislodge.

The long stretches of silence, of the sounds of the earth, of passing through them and adding to them and walking with them, quieted something within his chest. As if his heart beat to a rhythm not his own, did not pound so hard and heavy in his ears. It made his breaths too come easier.