Ocean's Breath Plateau [b] anuqłiqł̣uk

it was not easy for cen to admit that he had failed his wife. he should have chosen a lanzadoii woman, he told himself over and over. then he would not have had to try and force red leaf to be what he wanted. now she was miserable, and he was angry, and they were in a strange place, together and so separate.

the caribou man paced the shoreline, gathering shells of all colors. he brought them back, as many as he could, as red leaf walked and labored.

when she fell, he dropped his current burden of sea-jewels and ran to her side.

they did not speak. he helped her to the den, his own steps washed by the brine.

her cries were terrible. cen pushed shells into the sand, one by one, panting, fighting the tremble of his jawline. he prayed to oil father and to the ice raven; he offered the blood of a seabird to the water, asking that red leaf and their children live.

nonsensically the caribou hunter gathered kelp, drying it on the rocks near the den. 

the sun moved, and moved again before a son was born, a single child who he crept forward on shaking limbs to see as soon as he was able.

a lanzadoii pup. he did not begrudge red leaf her sharadoii words. she had been in pain. now cen whispered, "you are ghelan," and sighed out in great relief.

the amulet thrummed at his throat, reminding him.

before the scarlet eyes of his wife, cen pulled the thing from his neck and broke it on the stones outside the den.