Duskfire Glacier iqaluksiuq

keshka’s laugh came sharp and sudden, ringing out over the quiet water like the crack of bone. her shoulders rolled back, chin lifting with the sound, amused in a way that was rare for her.
no, she scoffed, shaking her head as though the very thought was absurd. i’ve no use for a husband. her tongue clicked softly against her teeth. men are slow. i prefer battle.
the words were simple, unbothered, as though she had already weighed such things and tossed them aside long ago. the idea of being tethered to anyone, least of all some glacier man, was laughable.
her gaze shifted toward the lake, watching the ripple of the heron’s wings as it settled, and then back to sulukinak.
he’s not mine. nor yours, i’d wager. she shrugged with mock indifference, a slyness curling at the corner of her mouth. let him try and keep us.