Duck Lake you're the prayer inside me

jaws had snapped with ease around the long neck of the hen. it was with a sharp mercy that she took its life, padding back to the oaken man and similarly dropping her catch. two ducks - a fine meal, one that she had not indulged in before. only a mere scent gathered from the bird-hunters ; otherwise, she found herself sustained on hare, caribou, and, on special occasion, seal. river otter, too, when closer to the streams of the ocean.

not bad, at all, rala replied, her grin wide while she spoke, pushing upon her pale cheeks, warmth glowing from within them. blood coursed through her body, both exhilarant and heating. a distant ache ebbed within her, though she would push it to the back of her thoughts, now. glint of approval would not go unnoticed - for she would match it with her own, a sidewards nod of her head, towards her left shoulder.

words left her again, melodic in their cadence, as if song were permanently etched within her throat, a strain of her culture that she simply could not abandon, whether she wanted to or not. although, she quite liked having something to hold on to - her tales, her dances, her songs, and more importantly, her name: i am nanuralaaq, she said, then. her name carried a weight, a tone that spoke of what she had done, what she had survived, to earn such a title. in my tongue, it means cub of polar bear. pale ; protected.

a single sweep of an assessing gaze brought another sentence flowing from her tongue. we hunt together, and so you may call me rala. a faith i put within you, a firm, almost smolder, though betrayed by the playful, upward curve of her lips. do not disappoint, napaaqtut, her tail, thumping behind her, betraying her true nature. an innocence, a youth that she had yet to shed, despite what she had seen, witnessed. an almost radiant aura that glowed from within, evident, palpable. warming, perhaps.

what is your name? rala asked, then. curious. or shall you stay napaaqtut?