Cedar Sweep [m] suqłiuġun

Something is very wrong.

The smallest of their children, a little boy that strikingly, painfully resembled the ochre and red-browns of Kigipigak's first wife—was dwindling in size. The others had been feasting and had perhaps edged-out the competition, which was to the detriment of this one.

A part of Kigipigak did hurt to think of losing a child this way; another more base instinct told him to be done with it. The child was small and sickly, it was the runt. If his mother was here she would have culled the boy by now... Kigipigak dared not mention this while Asivaq spoke of medicine, of help.

Perhaps the kindness of the moon-wolves is not such a bad thing.

You have been mothering him the same as the others? Kigipigak asked, knowing the answer already; the implication that she had maybe chosen favorites crawled from off his tongue and he didn't even notice it. I could go to my aokatti and see if he might know what to do—Njord or his wife, I mean. Perhaps they have found a healer we could borrow.