Cricket Creek Bog Nobody likes the records that I play.

Asivaq would be giving birth soon, he reasoned. Kigipigak did not know how long it took despite being a father once before, and only presumed that by the whale-shape of his beached woman, she would be ready to burst as soon as winter released its grip upon the land.

He hunted while she slept; he kept his patrols for the early evenings while she ate her dinner; he often did not sleep alongside her until the very late hours, and would be up and roaming very early, so he was hard at work to secure their village home and saw less and less of her. It was alright.

He stole what time he could of her; watching her sleep, often leaving her gifts of a fresh breakfast or more toys for the children to utilize later on.

Now he patrolled between their village claim and that of their neighbors, his aokatti and the man's wife having gathered enough bodies to find success before Kigipigak and his own; and while he felt some envy, he was not too bothered by the rise of the Copse. It would be good to have his friend so close. Their children could grow together.

Kigipigak passed a gap in the trees and that was when he saw a muddy figure, dark in complexion, and he didn't think much of them, as they were upon the same border he patrolled, and he presumed they were a part of the Copse and that was why he didn't recognize them. He gave a greeting sound - a sort of boof - which went unrecognized; and that was when he stopped and watched them, a little perturbed.