Cedar Sweep ⩸ tuqqun ⩸

THE EIGHTH SONG

Another night without singing—the first without tears.

There was comfort in knowing that he had made it to the dancing lights. Comfort in believing he was among his own and hunting with them.

She laid before the death ulaq and watched the sky, imagining her son's image made of starlight. Oh, she was so proud of him! She almost cried.

How would she make it through this? How would she find peace? How would she continue to find her voice as it faltered? How could she let go of the pain? How could she be there for him when he was so far away?

She did not know—but her doubt slowly began to lift, and she felt peace.