Cedar Sweep [m] suqłiuġun

He did not know how to help in this moment. He had never lost a child before; the feeling was not a good one, obviously, and must have been so much stronger for his wife—and knowing that, Kigipigak should have been softer. He knew that she would need time to grieve and space for the songs of her people, and that he should be acting in some way to make this easier.

When she spoke of singing the death songs with her brother, he gave a slow nod. To hear his mother's name spoken was jarring; but he knew Asivaq meant the spirit or the power that her own mother followed, and swallowed whatever sentiment did arise for himself.

With the birth of our children, our village rises. He speaks this as fact, but his voice is somber. The loss of this small boy might have been inevitable; whether it was the workings of a curse or something more random such as nature, it did not matter. I... Can watch them now, if you would like?

He moves a little closer, testing Asivaq's reaction; perhaps she wanted to be alone for some time first? Maybe the singing would come later. Kigipigak only wanted to be of use, and he was not good at sitting still.