Moonsong Glacier redthread

all her hours were marked by kivaluk now.
they each had their own work, but she sought him for interludes beside the lake, beneath the wild oaks, in the coppice; nighttime was revelry and laughter and as her breathing eased she would tell him blackthorn stories.
chickadee told no one where she was going that morning, because she hadn't had the intention to visit moonsong before she'd left. 
but she'd loved it the last time she had gone, all the unexplored places and the cold wind. 
the real reason she'd arrived, holding a turkey, was because chickadee felt she should be brought up to speed. she'd never met kivaluk's father, and if ariadne and she knew each other it surely had been in passing.
painstakingly she lugged it up the ice, stopping every so often to lament the trail of torn feathers and her own unsurety on these slopes.