Raven's Watch viii Sanctified by their affliction.

They took turns in the lead—and to be frank Kigipigak enjoyed following behind her for obvious reasons—each attempting different routes or sniping commentary at the other. It was a struggle and Valmua had been correct in saying it was hard, however the wagging of tongues softened some edges.

Kigipigak found it easy to insert @Valmúa in to his life because of his older sisters; they were no longer blood to him and that left a void to be filled. It was nice to hold company with someone brimming with the courage of their convictions, willing to be their unapologetic self. Valmua did not worry him as Nauja and Nuiruk had. In this short time together he decided he could trust her to a greater extent.

Any misconceptions that Kigipigak favored of women, or of those he thought were not quite Tartok enough, diminished immensely when spending time with this sun-touched woman. She was brazen when she wanted to be and he enjoyed that almost as much as the sight of her struggling to climb the bald face of the mountain.

Kigipigak wondered all the while if she was merely entertaining him for her brother's sake (and the Watch's sake), or if there was something more to be found beneath her prickly exterior.

No, see? No way through this, she hissed, snipping at the idea that she had somehow missed an obvious route through the tangle of shrubbery. She refused to admit that she hadn't actually explored the area that much. Instead, she dug in her heels every so often just to insist that she was right.
Shortly after, Kigipigak easily found a path just beside the one she insisted was impassible, and up the mountain they continued.
The bond formed like it had always been there. Had onlookers at the Watch seen them, Kigipigak and Valmúa looked as if they had known each other for most or all of their lives. For the vibrant she-wolf, it was as much his fascination with her as it was his flavour of Tartok that kept her interest. She neither feared him nor disrespected him. He was youthful and formidable, though the state of his white coat left much to be desired.
Her claws scraped against a particularly difficult portion of the path. This time, the Tartok was ahead of her. With great effort, she pulled herself onto a ledge and searched for the same spots that the young male had used to get up the rest. We will both hurt tomorrow, she noted, coming at the rocky path at a jog so she had the momentum to thrust her body up to where he was.

Their route had not been obvious but it had helped Kigipigak was a tenacious creature with a hefty body. He spent some time in climbing and seeking a path and equal effort carving one with his shoulders so that when Valmua followed after him it was easier. Further exploration of these paths would wear them down for proper use. It would take time to make this place a home suitable for beasts. 

We will both hurt tomorrow, Valmua predicted ominously, earning a glance from the white wolf as well as a small huff, wanting to refute such a claim and prove how hale he was—but, knowing she was right. It had been a lot of work that neither had been wholly equipped for.

With a lunge Valmua came up alongside Kigipigak.

Kigipigak could not ignore the way she breathed so heavily, the swelling of her sides as she panted, and let his mind wander somewhat. There were bits of pine needle tangled in the burnished shoulder close to him and he gingerly began to pick them out with his teeth, taking more care with her coat than his own.

When he was finished Kigipigak said, We will rest then, like fat and happy issumatar while Stjor tends to our needs! It was a joke that lit his gaze with fire.

While Val searched for a way up, she glanced down below at the path they had created. The alpine lake was easily visible from their vantage point. She had never been up this far and had long assumed that there was no pathway to the mountain beyond the lake.
As she searched, Kigipigak's touch distracted her. Reactively, she turned her head and nipped at his cheek, but there seemed to be no seriousness in the correction. As she continued to catch her breath, he told her a joking vision of their reward. Indeed, they would be sultans of the land, the great mountain trail blazers. Valmúa laughed through her teeth with a titter, knowing well that her stoic brother would never treat her as the princess she acted. The relationship she held with her brothers was equitable enough, but she knew that they full well expected to be leaders. She was the third wheel of their yin and yang.
Moving forward past him, she shot him a glance that reflected his own flame. Not my brother, but his new aġnat. They are like a... harem. They will do whatever you say, she rolled her eyes. Such women, of course, were important to the growth and function of the Watch. They were also weak and thus disgusted Val. Her brothers attracted weak women easily.
Shrubs and vines covered the way up. Val searched for a way through, poking her head through the branches of a bush. The second route she tested was worth an attempt, so she crashed her way through it and onto a dirt-laden ledge. Her nose flared, eyes focused on a pathway up even though her mind was busy thinking of ways to get Meadow and Minah to do her bidding.

Kigipigak found a singular enjoyment when her teeth grazed his cheek. The sound of her laughter hissed through fangs. Little things that he could get used to. 

A spiteful tone flavored her words next. The commentary made Kigipigak's brow raise and he nearly missed a step scrambling up the cliffside but saved himself in time, thinking of this harem. It was not a concept he was familiar with (nor was the word she used for them) but the derision was not surprising; women bickered like children when together, or so he had learned of his sisters. A poor sample group.

They will do what you say too. If you challenge them and win. As issumatar— he paused there, as her shape had vanished down a corridor of rock and bramble. A flash of her tail fur indicated which way she had lunged next and so he followed doggedly.

As Valmua continued to hunt for a path Kigipigak shouted from behind. Will you follow Tartok custom and rule, or will the brother? Your ways are.. different. Kigipigak hoisted himself front-first on to a ledge and then spent a moment scrambling as he awkwardly pulled one leg then another up, claws hooking on exposed shale.

Like many women, Valmúa found that others of her gender were nothing but competition. Having two brothers, she had long identified more with men, especially because they were easier to manipulate and get what she wanted from. Women were threatening to her status, even if physically they could not touch her.
Issumatar... yes... Val breathed, placing her paw on a rocky step and clambering up another slope. It wasn't clear from her tone whether she was thinking about the words or just focusing on the physical task. As a rule, she was poor at doing two things at once.
When Val had pulled herself up onto a slope that showed a much more promising pathway, she grinned slyly. Then, she looked behind her, watching Kigipigak struggle along the same route. Stjornuati and Solpallur, they are sál binda. Eh... The Tartok Aokkatti. I not win the challenge, she answered. Even if she tried to defeat just one of her brothers in a challenge, she doubted she could except for perhaps a one off. As kids, the boys had always pummelled her in spars. She could never quite find her "in."
Would they follow Tartok custom? Stormhaven was Tartok but different — Watch will be Stormhaven but different. Brothers do not care about being issumatar, but want control. That was how they had always been. They wanted to invent their own little world of not quite Tartok and not quite Stormhaven. It was the sanctity of that world that they cared about, not who ruled it.
Or so they said. Her brothers had always sought control over every situation. This was why their sister infuriated them so, for she was uncontrollable in many moments.

The role of aokatti was an important one for both tribes.

It was surprising to Kigipigak that Stjornuati had already bonded with another—especially so that it was blood-kin that was bonded, as that was much rarer a connection in Unnuakvik; he had hoped to find a match for himself one day but Kigipigak would have never considered either of his sisters. Kiviuk was an option too—or had been. More often those of Unnuakvik died without forming such a bond with another. It was a dream that Kigipigak held for himself, that one day he would be worthy of such a thing.

His slack-jaw was enough of a reaction to show how awed he was. Would it be possible that his gaze flash green with envy, it would have illuminated like the spirit lights of the high north. 

Two brothers working as issumatar? There is no balance. Easier to follow tradition and set a matriarch! You know of the legend—of Siku the First? He knew Valmua had the knowledge of those tales. She had spoken of them when first the siblings met with him.

Convince them that you should be issumatar. Give them wives, work to do, they will be too busy to control anything. Kigipigak did not want to cast a dark light upon the brother he knew nor the brother he had yet to meet, however his connection to Valmua was growing steadily and he saw power in her, traditions he was raised to follow. If she spoke against it he would drop the subject—for a time.

Stjor and Sol had never actually told her that they were sál binda, but they certainly acted that way with every action they took. The hringja had after all sent them to organize the Watch together, without her. They did as much together as they possibly could in a waking day. The brothers seemed as though to know what each was thinking. Each acted as a limb of the other, and together they were a powerful, frightening force.
Valmúa did not fear her brothers. They understood each other. She had no interest in standing in their way of greatness in order to assume a role of matríarki just because legends like that of Siku the First ran in her bloodline. I know it, she said firmly. Siku the Mother. Siku the Conquerer. All of Stormhaven knew the legends of the great matriarch well.
It was a tempting thought. To think of herself as issumatar while her brothers left their Drottinn statuses behind seemed delectable. Such a thing was a distraction proposition for her, who had come here to aid in her brothers' reign.
The fiery she-wolf met his hungry gaze then with a flash. Wheels turned in her mind. I will find them wives, and they will become busy, and then, that is when I become issumatar, she said coldly. They not need to be convinced. I let them build the Watch now, and I wait, she grinned, it will be mine.
Even if their Watch had their names stickered on it, Valmúa knew that she could enjoy a position of privilege and power. She could sneak in more and more of it as they became distracted with their aġnat and eventually, she would have all but the title Kigipigak spoke.
Such a delicious thought.

Not knowing if the woman would unleash her fire upon him at his commentary, it was a welcome surprise to find his ideas acceptable. They were of similar minds, then. A smile spreads upon Kigipigak's face; he is glad to have found not only more of Tartok but an agreeable and strong woman that he could trust and serve. A proper issumatar.

As it should be. Kigipigak says while his tail pendulums agreement. 

Another thought came to him then. He is bold in his comments with Valmua, having deemed her more important in his mind—although he was young and could have been easily led astray by the boyish imagination within his mind.

I have met one brother. Who is the other? If we are to work together in finding them wives it would be good to know them better. Something Kigipigak would work on from this point forward. Earning their trust while learning of their greatest desires so that some match could be made. It was a woman's job in Unnuakvik to forge such connections but for now Kigipigak would have to do.

Normally, Valmúa might only have told such plans to a most trusted friend. However, he would do nicely. She had no desire to harm her brothers — she respected them too greatly. Power, though, she had always been hungry for. The secret bonded them further, the stares of each welding in place an intriguing new partnership.
They moved forward slower than before, caught in illicit conversation that tantalized her thoughts. The mountain path was raw, and they would not be overheard. Solpallur was what Kigipigak asked for next. The young Tartok made his intentions clear. Their shared vision had him with her, a great sigrari in the footsteps of Siku.
Solpallur is a dark and stoic brother, Valmúa began, pleased to see that the path up was a sloping ramp and far simpler to climb. The wind was starting to bite worse than it had even beside the lake. He does not talk a lot. His common tongue is not good, she explained. It was quite valuable that Stjornuati knew the common tongue much better than Sol, for together they were more effective communicators and could get what they wanted. Most of the time.
Sol is... most... kinnaktuk of us. Sol was the one who truly did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Of the lot, Valmúa was was likely the most calculated of all, so she thought.

This other brother, Solpallur, sounded like many of the older men within Unnuakvik which could have been a blessing had such an archetype not been so intimidating for Kigipigak; his mother was much the same way, brooding and hard-hearted, so that Kigipigak tried every moment to bring her happiness in whatever way he could. He had done so by culling the weakness from the village and earned a rare word of thanks in return—then banishment.

It was useful to keep in mind that Solpallur did not speak common well. As these far-north wolves of Tartok held a language all their own, it felt fitting to Kigipigak that there be something secret that he shared with Valmua in turn. They could speak openly of their plans so long as Stjornuati was not within earshot. 

That will make things difficult, Kigipigak remarks as he works to keep up with her pace, quiet for only a few breaths. But not impossible. A flash of amusement in his gaze; much like this path they now carved, together the pair would find a way to get what they wanted.

Perhaps it was his boyishness coupled with the lustful glances that gave her such an injection of overconfidence. Overthrowing her brothers in a cruel and violent way was not her style, and never would be. Finding distractions for them though? If they could manage to matchmake them and busy them for long enough, her rise would occur "naturally." She would have the time. She would have the energy. Nothing would slow her down.
Toward the top of the path, the walkway narrowed. Valmúa slowed her pace for a moment so that he would walk ahead of her while answering him. They must be young, but able to igniruk in spring, she said, following behind him. As she exited onto a new mountain slope from the path, she "accidentally" bumped her hip against him and dragged her tail close to his hindquarters.
We must scout for other packs with.., she paused, glaring at him, niviaksrak. A rather maniacal grin followed.

Had Kigipigak been older he would know the tricks of women and be wise to them, but he was a boy still, one who loved his mother and thought he knew best because of what she'd taught him. He had slain his own father in an effort to please her and did not know the harm he had caused—nor did he understand wholly what he was committing to here with Valmua.

Kigipigak only knew what instinct told him now. As Valmua took the lead and he was given a chance to watch her move, she cast her spell deeper. The touch of her hip against his shoulder gave him pause—startled, trying to make room—and then she draws away from him and he feels longing. He does not know what he wants from her and will not, truly, for some time.

Niviaksrak. He nods. Full agreement, a dog on a long leash.