Barrow Fields vii Come home to roost.

If you're interested!

The mounds were covered in moss and varying levels of grass, some so dry it could work well as tinder, but it was the presence of the mounds that chilled him to the core. They had a place like this in Unnuakvik—it was where Auktuk's body now would rest and become one with the earth. The tribe was small and so its boneyard was too; this field, this was so much more than that.

Kigipigak took his time in crossing among the mounds. His stride was more cautious here than when he hiked the mountain or followed the broken ridges in the tanglewood. Mother had taught him to be wary of the dead. They could harm you still, if you were not careful. Disturbing their resting places was one of the worst crimes his people held, and so in crossing this space he would take care.

The oddest part of all this was a famliar scent lingering at some mounds, tracing between smaller ones, and towards the mountainside. It was fresh, so Kigipigak grew distracted as he tracked after it, wondering if he could spy her (@Valmúa) glowing face before her sunny disposition snuck up on him.

-wiggles-

The fields held bones as well as rodents, and it was on these that the ginger northerner had most focused on. The Watch was slowly growing, but she and her siblings were prone to wander the surrounding areas. Much of her time was spent hunting for herself, for she was finally able to gain back more weight now that her home range was stable. All that would be left to do would be to begin sparring regularly again to hone in her fighting abilities for which her people were so proud.
Valmúa was careful not to disturb the mounds, not even when she suspected voles hidden within. Instead, she dug between them where the grasses grew. Patience had never been her strength. She dug hurriedly into a small hole that she could hear a tiny beast chattering within. Her head moved from side to side as she tried to pinpoint the sound. Instead of the vole, she heard the subtle footfall of one close behind her, and she swept around to greet the intruder with teeth bared.
It is the Unnuakvik, she said, half grinning and half snarling. Her tail waved like a flag while her expression softened. She strutted forward to sniff at his neck. Val had wondered when she might see the Tartok again.

Valmua turned when she saw Kigipigak and he was not sure if she was about to shout for her blood-brother, strike him, or pretend he was a fragment of dust not worth her eye. 

Her bestial noises were not unusual among their shared people no matter how different their tribes may be. Kigipigak's tail waved as a friendly pendulum a few times before resting at his hocks while Valmua investigated his mantle of white.

And the Watcher! He says, smirking crookedly. The slice of flesh crossing his lips is warm and easily agitated, as Kigipigak has not looked after it appropriately. The boom of his voice dwindles a moment later and becomes something cautious, the way a boy's might when crossing the pulpit of a church.

Why do you dig? He hoped it was not for something such as a burial. His voice is evenly sombre just in case. Kigipigak eyes the mounds—and the divot she's carved between a set—as if something may rise out of them.

Valmúa could see that the wound along his mouth was still present. Surely it would heal in time with a young, sprightly Tartok like him. Stjor had his medicines of course. Together, they would spread Tartok and make it strong in this new southern land. Like their forebears, the land and her nature would reward them with riches. Those that stood in their way? Well, Val had plans for such insects.
They are little rats, niki in the dirt, she explained, ears swiveling toward the sounds and pawing frustratedly at the damaged hole again. She used the more general word for food in his native tongue, not knowing the more specific one. I hear them, she growled. Her nose twitched as she pawed hopelessly at the vole tunnel entrance.
She was not experienced enough at hunting such animals to know that they had been exiting out a back route every time she managed to dig far enough to get one out. It was only when she spotted them running between entrances that she had managed to capture just one.

Kigipigak drew away from her and cautiously investigated one mound, then another, then another, and finally the divot she had worked hastily to carve. There was no trace of anything warm or alive—except a worm that retreated in to the dirt as he got close. Tempting as it was to slurp that up, Kigipigak did not resort to such a habit with current company present.

I hear them, Valmua went on to hiss as she assailed another hole.

Without any clues to draw him in Kigipigak was not as invested; he looked to the sky and watched a distant shape coasting on air currents, perhaps one of the Watcher's birds. It looked large and could have been an eagle for all he knew. Point being— it wasn't tempted close to this field at all. That told him it was a pointless endeavor.

For all he knew this woman was hearing the restless dead. 

Have you been up the mountain? Kigipigak asked abruptly. He wanted to redirect Valmua's attention and learn about the place she wished to take for herself.

Despite his disinterest, Valmúa went on digging at the now abandoned tunnel. Had Kigipigak not been present, it was likely the red woman would have spent hours digging fruitlessly with the same strategy. She was not the type to give up easily, even when things didn't seem to be working out in her favour.
Her interest in him rather than the voles proved stronger, however, for she stopped her digging to look at him when he asked of the mountain. Val turned to look at the immense sunspire that chased the stars. A great bird climbed the currents. There was no sound up there, no small animals to tickle her insanity. She inhaled the air, wishing for it to smell of the great mountain, but catching only the sea instead.
Only around it. The way up is hard, she said, eying one of the peaks. Many of the parts of the mountain were impassible without going at least part way around it. I do not think there is a good way up from the Watch, she said, though now she wished that there was. The mountains may have been the closest thing to their homeland. She could see snow already capping the highest reaches of their rocky precipices.

She stopped her toiling in the dirt and came to stand with him. Kigipigak turned an ear and listened to the shifting of her strides, otherwise preoccupied watching the dark shape sweep away in to the nothingness beyond his sightline. When he did glance at Valmua she was watching the mountains; in that instant he realized her eyes were a striking shade of pewter.

Hard does not mean impossible, Kigipigak stated. One of the things his mother often said when he, or his spineless sisters, complained about their training regime. The boy is quiet for a moment and Valmua adds, I do not think there is a good way up from the Watch.

We will find another! He announces boldly. I crossed these mountains from the valley next, so that at least is possible. Will you show me your way? Kigipigak looked expectantly upon her now with his full attention, wondering if she will give up her pursuit of the buried spirits so easily.

Hard does not mean impossible.
Valmúa looked at the pale man. He was right, of course. It was not in their blood to avoid doing something just because it was a difficult task. And so, the mountain path became their new journey. Forgetting the voles and the filth on her paws, she shot a devilish grin at him on the suggestion that they simply find the path. She quickly followed her eye contact with a nip at the fur of his cheek, pushing past him to look at the way to the Watch.
Raven's Watch was bordered by a mountain stream that was sourced from the mountain in question. The water source produced cascading waterfalls that were beautiful to behold, but held steep and difficult slopes of sheer rock in places. The area around is was green and fruitful, but Val hadn't figured out how to get up past the lake to the mountain peaks beyond.
You will come with me, she said swiftly, intending the innuendo as she flashed her eyes briefly to his. Looking back toward the road to their Watch, she moved between the mounds, careful not to disturb them. We will find the path to the mountain, she declared equally boldly. In fact, she had never bothered to look that hard for a good path up the mountain. Surely, if they could get to the lake they could get past it.

Maybe another one at Raven's Watch?

You will come with me, the woman said. Her words were bait and Kigipigak surged hungrily after them. Against his better judgement Kigipigak's attention flowed down the back of her head and to her rear; as she pranced around the mounds he watched the way she moved, only averting his gaze when she had cleared the worst of them.

With Valmua leading the way to the creek that bled down the mountain Kigipigak was in high spirits. He had seen moody forests in the night, open fields filled with stars and the vast, colorful views from on-high as he scaled the mountains, but above all his favorite view was of Valmua leading him along.

Dutifully her new favourite pet followed behind her. She led him away from the site of bones and hidden rats to the place they were building. The slopes began early and on them the trees reached to the skies to create a dark canopy of conifers. The crows of the ravens were ever present. It was impossible to forget where one was when nature's voices were constantly yelling it at you.
All the while, Valmúa knew his temptations and delighted in his gaze. Thankful for more hours alone with his northern essence, the ginger woman taunted him all the way with the occasional extra sway of her hips. When she looked behind to him, her eyes were fierce, as though he might be in trouble. She never chastised him.
Slowly, she was wrapping him around her little finger.