Duck Lake sunlight, we bid farewell

Tonravik had been alive only during the beginning period of hatred between Siku and Nanuq. She had been groomed to hate the woman, to kill her offspring, and to kill her. But upon being reunited with her mother, evidently, the bonds of hatred had gone away. You do not need to kill them, she was told. And so that purpose, that thing that was instilled in her, was all but vanquished. It lingered there, a learned plague; but it mattered not. She would never meet a Kesuk, and so there was nothing to worry about.

The only family she knew was that of the blood and womb of Siku. They were all she would accept regardless. If they bore the name Tartok, they were family as well. Tartok was blood. This much, she knew. And there was one other being that Tonravik could feel a single thing for; but that being was likely the very last. Had he not saved her in his way, there would be nothing to even think of. But he had.

A gleeful bark brings her to. Happiness? What for? Tonravik makes herself known as she moves toward the lake, dark brown eyes finding the source immediately and furrowing her wolfish brow. Why.