Ouroboros Spine kisuk-kikuyak-iik

His admission was not something he wanted to repeat; he did not want to beg for the attention of his wife, and thought that by mentioning their time apart lately he was doing exactly that. She was obviously very busy between her work as a mother and the reconnection with her own family, not to forget the loss of Shikoba for which she had already prepared herself.

As Asivaq watched the sky, Kigipigak showed the same interest in the faint shifting of color above them. She agreed to linger for a short time but Kigipigak knew she was only saying that to appease him, because she had other things to be doing; and his sense of duty demanded he let her go, because they could find another time to spend together. It would be rare in the coming days, as their children became more animate and more curious of their new village—but he had to trust that Asivaq would make the effort, and he knew he would try as well.

They were alone, then.

Kigipigak watched the sky until the colors were indistinguishable from the darkness of the sky, having shifted and flowed away from them. To the Tartok man they were only colors—like a rainbow, which held no deeper meaning. To Asivaq, he wondered what she saw. Was this Shikoba making her farewell? It made little sense to him.

With a sigh that broke the stillness, Kigipigak offered one last attempt at connection for the evening: Maybe I should join you? What would she think of that? Of course, it was late—and someone needed to watch the children. Asivaq would be going to sing the songs, which meant Kigipigak had his own duties to attend to.