Ouroboros Spine harvest moon

A new face followed in Ipiktok’s path. It was a young girl with a pelt like a rosefinch’s.

Akmaaksi, Ipiktok thought the name in his mind as it had been told to him by Kukutux and @Vairë. Since his return, the hunter had spent many hours with his mother and absorbed the tale of his late aunt, Kigipigak, and their children – straddled between Tartok and Sedna’s way. Certainly, the retelling had been biased.

“Hello, arnaqatik,” cousin. Kin.

He had been informed the child spoke very little, if at all, and so he did not expect a response.

“I am looking for a place to build my ulaq. Won’t you help me search?” he asked.