Big Salmon Lake Why are you hanging on so tight

it would be a marvelous gift, periane said softly, the curve of her mouth thoughtful, touched by something reverent. her gaze drifted to where the sunspires rose like watchful gods in the distance, bathed in pale gold.
will you give it to her?
she looked back to tiuttuk then, eyes warm. there was no pressure in her voice—only the quiet gravity of offering something sacred. this is how it begins, her gaze seemed to say. small acts. small lights. carried from hand to hand.
perhaps it is not mine to give, she added gently, but yours.