Silver Creek nutaaq

I have never known a Tartok woman to sing so much. He said with a smile, but held his usually booming voice to himself. If they were to make camp here then he did not want to startle potential prey from their position. Whether it was something from the creek (which was partially frozen) or the landscape, being loud in this moment would not be useful.

It was impressive, thinking of Asivaq hunting for their meal. To imagine all the ways that her body had adapted even in that short time among his people — their people — and the way in which she would change further, as she would begin to fatten up in preparation for their children. They would be ready, and they would welcome these embodiments of their love for one-another in to the living world, together.

Kigipigak went quiet, focusing on finding a place that would be a suitable hideaway for them, while Asivaq did her hunting. Whenever she returned from this, she would find very little of the landscape had changed: those of Tartok rarely slept within shelter, and as it had been with the hunters of Kinniq they would survive beneath their own stars.

The hunters had gifted them much in the way of knowledge and attention. Kigipigak owed them deeply for the way they accepted Asivaq, and began her path among the Anneriwok.