Moonsong Glacier akiaguk ¤ {m}

It is how I wished to, once. He answered with a great deal of pride to his tone, one which bordered on sorrow, before he could stop himself—and then he breathed a deep sigh, and oddly found comfort in the taste of Ariadne among the ice here. She was alive whereas the rest of the caves seemed dead in a still way, a frozen way, and briefly Kilgitsuk regarded her as one might regard a campfire as warm and comforting.

I do not know what to do about my future, was his candid answer, probing a little bit closer to what she might hold in her own mind. My sons are Tartok by blood but not by culture; they are sunshine-people now, which differs from what I think is right for them. Kukutux— he tasted that name and seemed to go cold again; it felt wrong to speak of her to her own daughter, and for a moment Kilgitsuk quelled his speech and looked upon Ariadne as if for permission to speak freely.

She has taken Kivaluk as her own son, and does not regard me at all with the respect of father. So I have lost one son for being too much like his blood-mother, one for being raised by kin-woman, and a wife — here his hurt flashed as anger for a moment and he could not look at Ariadne.

A wife who could not understand. He had tried, with Sakhmet. He had loved her fiercely, and thought of her as issumatar, and had truly believed she had become as strong and capable as those women of the north; but he also did not take in to account her own unique power that thrived despite the teachings he tried to impart to her. He saw now only failure in himself as a father and husband, failure in her as issumatar; and while he wanted to fault her for being a poor mother, he could not do that! She had been the best to their boys even if he could not see it at the time.

Kilgitsuk grumbles emphatically, shaking out his scruff to rid some of the tension he has built-up through his speaking; it helps a little. I'm sorry for all of this. These are things that are in the past and should be behind me, I do not mean to speak unkindly of anyone. He did not know why he spoke so freely of these things which were precious to him.

I know my sons are better without me in their life. It was the same with my own father—so it should not wither my spirit to see it happen. Of all the traditions to uphold from the north! Hah, he laughs ruefully at himself and his poor luck, and the situation, seeing it repeat. I suppose I should be pleased that some piece of Tartok remains.