Moonspear lie to me

Two nights anaa had been home, and on the second night, a dream came to Sialuk. It was the qanglaagix, and it called to her. There was no bone in its mouth this time, nor a piece of meat. In her mother's tongue, it spoke to her.

The bones speak to you. They do not give answers, but they do give hints. You have much to learn. I speak my name: Sixsix.

When she woke in the early light of dawn, it was to the sound of the qanglaagix. No, he had spoken his name to her. Sixsix, she breathed aloud with a faint smile. He had no bone, but she tossed him a chunk of meat anyway. A gift for revealing his name to her. The corvid flew off with the food, disappearing to wherever it went when it wasn't around her.

Sialuk stretched her muscles then, loosening up before she tilted her head back and greeted the day with her voice, loud and long for everybody to hear.