Northstar Vale anugivaalua ❅

she remained at their hearth when agana hunted, unless she herself wished to fill a cache or search for herbs in the frozen vale. it was she who dried the meat, who bit gristle from the furs so they could be used, she who ground the path and in the spring would bring flowers to crumple upon the floor of their den for a sweet scent.

and kukutux had done all this unconsciously, as taught by her mother and enforced by other women within the clan. from girlhood the duck had been raised to be a good wife, and she had played that role well within her husband's ulaq.

and now she had again a shelter of her own, rebuilt for the third time, and had settled into the same role, unthinkingly. 

under agana's suggestion, kukutux averted her eyes and took a piece of the cold trout, tucking it into her cheek. you are uilgagnaak, spoke the spirit. you shame those at the dancing lights to even consider it.

"i am what?" kukutux dared breathlessly, lifting her eyes to see the inscrutable within agana's own features.