Ouroboros Spine kisuk-kikuyak-iik

Her hope was like a single colored thread in a dulled tapestry—while threadbare overall, there within lay a singular intact piece which came to life in her eyes.

Kigipigak saw something else when he heard her request: the desperation of a grieving mother. He thought it odd that someone would focus so wholly on what wasn't that they would ignore what was; but that was, for the man, Tartok conditioning manifested. Their son had died somewhere far removed from this village and Kigipigak had made his peace with it—but he saw his wife suffering.

She wanted him to sing, which immediately turned his stomach. What would singing do? Their son's body was buried in the woods and there was nothing left. The lights shifted in the sky, and he watched them; he did not sense any life in them, or witness anything magical. Why did the Sunshine People hide from reality? Singing to the sky would do nothing.

Not nothing—maybe it would remedy some aspect of Asivaq's hurt. Kigipigak looked at her again, resigned. So instead of being with our living children you would have me sing songs at nothing. The statement was offered for clarity, both giving and receiving.

He watched the drying blood on her cheeks.