The Tangle Arpiqsiaputiq

He need not use words to make her ears slant, or to stab at Sulukinak. His tone alone made her withdraw into herself all the more.

Somehow he couldn't tell her anything specifically useful; he could remember, he couldn't, it was confusing.

She lifts a lip and shakes the annoyance from her shoulders.

If a man is hot to touch, wet moss might undo it. The girl pointed this out as an answer which seemed obvious, yet had evaded the boy. Or maybe the ache of the needling he had received upon his escape had fouled him.

She sweeps to her feet as if to leave.

And your - ma, where is she? Perhaps near? Perhaps able to teach.