Ouroboros Spine All I have to do is breathe

Samani waited breathlessly for starlight.

She had hiked up along the stone and found a perfect nesting place. The journey down would be easy, even in the dark, and she had even managed to pull one of the pelts from their den to keep her cozy. Clasped tightly in her teeth, she made certain that furs would not be damaged by her journey, and she had made her way.

The clouds moved too thick overhead. Samani searched them with a pensive expression and a small frown on her features. The young wolf would have enjoyed watching the stars take shape as darkness fell. She imagined she would find pleasure in the tumbling storm clouds, too.

The air was cooling quicker and quicker these days, with the nights being more crisp, leaving a lasting frost by morning. Kigipigak longed to experience a proper snowfall within the village. He missed them; he missed his mother acutely, he had come to realize.

What would she think, seeing him now? Not a warrior of Tartok so much as a warden to a village of people, not even his own people. A guardian of children, a lone hunter, following no commands from any issumatar, pining after the ghost of a girl who would never return.

He sighed as he walked, having reached a high vantage point beyond the village limits. It wasn't far; but itw as high, and from this place he could see the sky well.

He turned his ear, then his attention entirely, to the approaching sound of something small roaming the hillside. In the graylight the shape of the child was almost too impossible for him to see, except the sounds drew him to investigate, and soon he found the small shape of Samani with their fur blanket.

Rocks tumbled beneath the man’s foot, drawing the jade eyes of the pup toward him. Samani’s ears had risen sharply, standing tall on her head so she could take in even the most hushed of sounds. The large white wolf did not really need to worry, for his size was difficult to mask by anything but sheets of glistening snow. At least, that was how it seemed.

Samani wagged her tail to him, inviting the shape to draw nearer to her.

Dark as it was, she believed she knew the broad shape of the man’s body, the soft ivory of his fur coat. It should have been Kigipigak. The stoic man was a familiar one sheerly from how often he spent with Samani’s mother. The peachy child had grown quite good at keeping track of familiar features. She could see the jagged scar that rose from his lip in her mind’s eye.

Quiet as the evening was, she would have liked some company.

Unlike with the child's distorted sibling, Kigipigak was not so withdrawn or nervous.

His thoughts broke away from their melancholy tangent when he finally noticed Samani, saw the wag of her tail, and recognized that this was one of Kukutux' children - which meant they would require a chaperone for whatever it was that they were doing.

He had not sensed any adults nearby, but this was one of the many stops for those doing patrols, so it would not be strange if one came by soon. He was here, after all.

What are you doing out here? He asked of the child. His voice wasn't rough or in any way demanding, though. Kigipigak wasn't the child's father and so he would not act in such a way. He drew closer and settled to his haunches beneath a pine branch, ducking substantially so that he could fit.

The large white figure approached her after only a few moments. His broad frame seemed to struggle to fit beneath the boughs of the nearby pine. Samani watched him, quiet and calm. Her jade gaze lingered on the scar at his lip, curiosity prickling to inquire about where he had gotten it. The young girl could only imagine that it had been an outstanding feat of strength, that he wore the jagged mark with pride.

Kigipigak wondered what she was doing out there. Samani wondered if he pictured himself as a proper guardian, watching over the village leader’s child. There was no harm in her venturing to the rocky sights of Moonglow, at least she did not believe so.

I look for stars, Samani answered him carefully. Her eyes shifted from his rugged face to the dark clouds and the black sea beyond. The slim child then let a soft sigh fall from her lips. She smiled gently toward Kigipigak, wondering what he was doing out there too.

It is late, he remarks to the child, as if reminding them of the hour might spark some warning in them, but he did not continue the subject beyond that.

The girl wanted to see the stars and there was only one way to do that, Kigipigak reasoned, which is why they had set up their bedfurs here. As he had no intention of forcing her back to the rendezvous site, the only thing Kigipigak could do was linger nearby and serve as an observer, in case anything prowled in the night.

She was watching him. He did not know what to say now. Her eyes lingered on the curve of his older face scars which he had almost forgotten about, having become so used to them, and almost grimaced from the attention. Kigipigak grunted softly through his nose. He looked away from her and through the trees, then up, trying to spy anything overhead.

There are many clouds. It will be hard to see the stars tonight. But she could try, he would be here.

The white stalwart wolf was blunt with his word. He stated that it was late, to which Samani nodded her head in understanding.

Yes, it was late. How else was she to see the stars?

The truth was that it was not the hour that plagued her ability to stargaze, but the clouds overhead. Samani did not understand the shifting in seasons would impair her ability to watch certain things. She had only known that the winds were colder. The skies got dark faster. The leaves on the trees had changed from bright greens to fragile brown. She had watched them all fall to the earth.

It is fine, she assured him softly. The young girl would return to the den of her family in a short while. She did not want to give up so soon. Samani’s spirit was stronger than that, more resilient.

When she had searched the clouded skies for a short time, she found her eyes returning to the scar on his lip, only to study it. The cold made it more prominent. It stood out as a sharp mark against his face, at least from where she sat. The question she asked was only for him. What does that mean? her nose pointed to it.

The girl did not seem bothered by the state of the sky. Perhaps they were a more patient creature than Kigipigak gave them credit for.

He did not know children; he thought them all to be mindless things until some transition had occurred, giving them sentience, or something. This one seemed more conversational than their sibling and more intact. Perhaps that was the only difference: Samani wasn't distorted in any way. They were made right.

She looked up at Kigipigak and motioned to the scars on his lip. The question made the corner of his lip curl slightly, and then flow in to a grin.

It means I am a man, and it means I am a warrior. He answered. A mighty one.

When Kigipigak grinned, so did Samani.

The pale wolf stated that it meant he was a man, a warrior, and mighty. The young girl’s jade eyes did not waver upon him. She liked the way that he spoke about himself. To reflect this, Samani nodded her head.

I will be mighty.

It was said plainly. Samani turned her gaze toward the skies again, hoping she might chance a glimpse at a star from behind the rolling clouds. Nothing glimmered back at her. The child watched for a moment more before she transitioned her gaze to Kigipigak and his scar.

Tell me how it happened.

The mark upon his face shifted with his grin. As the girl asked for a story to fit the mark, Kigipigak faltered for only a breath. It did not occur to him that the truth should be hidden from a child; that it might not be a topic suitable to one so young.

When I was a boy I looked up to my father. The way you love your father, the sun man. He started to explain.

My father was much older when I was born. As I got older, so did he. And when I was old enough to run with my village for the hunts, the way we will be hunting this winter with the village Duskfire, I saw how weak he had become.

Kigipigak was no storyteller. He did not embellish this tale or make it easy to understand for the child. His voice held a measure of calm to it until these basic things were explained and then, with pride, he went on to the important details of why the scar was so important:

In my village when something is weak, it does not live long. So it was my duty to challenge my father, fight him, and put him to rest. That is how I earned this scar, and my name.

He was quiet then, watching the child. Wondering how such a story might affect her. Kigipigak knew his village was different from the soft-hearted one of Moonglow; perhaps she would be confused or dismayed, but he anticipated pride and goodness to come from her, as that was how his own mother Sedna had reacted.

Kigipigak told her the story of how he had gotten his scar.

Samani listened. This story was nothing like the tales she had learned from her mother or the soft words that were spoken by her father. The things that the pale man said were grim. His father had gotten old and he had taken the burden of challenging him in his old age and then putting him to rest, which did not sound at all to be a peaceful thing.

When he had finished, Samani regarded him with a watchful stare.

You would not challenge him when he was fit and strong but only when he had gotten old?

The moon child frowned thoughtfully at this.

Samani did not imagine that it was good, for it did not feel good to speak such things. The spirit inside of her was indignant and shocked, but even she could not fathom why. Kigipigak was a strong man. His build was powerful, broad, and he had shown himself to be a defender of Moonglow. It did not make sense to the child that he would wait until his father had grown weary and bleak to fight him.

Perhaps, she did not understand the might he spoke of.

What the child said next was something Kigipigak had thought before when the lesson was new, and had forgotten by the time he had to face the old man.

It had been replaced by the great desire to garner the praise of his mother regardless of action or consequence. The thrill of the fight. The pride that came after the conquest of someone more skilled while he was barely out of boyhood.

This question the child posed made Kigipigak breathe deeply. He was quick to judge the comment as superfluous; what did she know? She was from this careful, soft world removed from the warmongering of men, or the powerful nature of the issumatar.

He was old but strong, having known many battles and many more hunts than myself. In defeating him I proved my own strength. His pride remained, although doubt had festered long before this, and Kigipigak swallowed what little aroused now. If I could not have done it, I would have been made to leave. In my village it is the word of the issumatar that is final — like your mother's. She is the head of your village, the issumatar was the head of mine.

This too was a lesson, he realized. This difference shining for Samani to see and to digest.

I was told, 'This man cannot hunt! You, together with your sisters, will fight him until his last breath!' But when the time came, my sisters said no, and were sent away. They had disgraced themselves. They were unfit for Tartok. Kigipigak looked more serious now and his smile had faded. I fought alone, and won alone. This scar upon my face is a reminder of that. That is how my name became Kigipigak.

Was this a word that Samani would know? It was their shared tongue; but it was a hard word, and maybe it did not fit in to her world yet.

The explanation that was offered was long-winded. Samani listened to each word and mulled the information over in her mind.

After a short period, she was still certain that she did not understand how he had garnered pride from his actions, how he had continued with his life without severe shame. The moon child did not know it, but even her early perception of him was tarnished by the image of what he had explained. Kigipigak did not act with honor toward his family. He had laid his father to ‘rest’ with brute force. There was no resting in such actions. These things Samani could not vocalize.

You left anyway.

The jade of her gaze slipped from his scarred features and to the stretch of Moonglow beneath their perch. Samani shifted, mildly uncomfortable. She didn’t understand the importance of the information he’d shared. As she grew, she would hold this as a bias against Kigipigak until he was able to prove himself a good man. In the eyes of the moon child, he had only admitted a wrongdoing.

If you are here, I think your sisters were wiser. They were banished, but you are not a part of that village either. They did not have to become bad to do it.

Samani smiled to him. Bad and good, right and wrong, all of these subjects were clearly black and white in the eyes of a child.

You left anyway. The girl's eyes, so much like her mother's, watched him. It felt as if he were speaking with Kukutux somehow; but the girl was only a child and could not know everything. Still, what she said struck at something deep within Kigipigak.

She vouched for the young man's sisters. The pair who had sought freedom by banishment, losing the chance to become true Tartok the way he had. No; there was only the one way, the Tartok way, and this child did not know anything.

Kigipigak took refuge within the framework that had aided him throughout his life: the tenacity of the Tartok spirit, the loyalty that had been bred and trained in to him, the way of the warrior that he had assumed with the downfall of his unfit father. He smiled.

I left with the blessing of my mother, and I may return one day. I would be welcome. They would feast in my honor. My sisters would be turned away with tooth and claw if they dared to try. But even as he said this, Kigipigak saw through it. He had his doubts long ago; those doubts had resurfaced after Greymoor Watch, and now found strength within the ignorance of the child.

It is very late. You will not see many stars with these clouds — perhaps it is time to find your bed?

But why would they try? Samani wished to ask him, in reference to his sisters.

If they had understood the outcome their actions would have caused, they had done so knowing they would never be allowed to return to their home village again. At least, this was all that made sense to the girl. If they had been surprised by it, only forced out after they had denied the chance to lay their father to rest, it did not sound like a place anyone should want to return to.

Kigipigak stated that it was late, and she should consider returning to her family’s den. The young girl watched his face with pointed interest, taking in each feature so that she would remember it and the conversation they had shared. It was not one she understood well. She had made statements that only made sense with the limited information she’d received.

You come with, she told him and rose to her paws, reaching to grab the fur she had pulled with her.

It was fortunate for Kigipigak that this girl was so quiet. She was introspective too, bright and precocious, but not in a way that begged answers. If asked he would have done his best to respond — but it was likely something about his culture she would never understand, as she did not grow up within it.

His suggestion that she bring her blanket inside and find a place to sleep was accepted, but with a twist: she reached for him, and tugging at his coat, bade he follow too. This was heart-warming and awkward for Kigipigak.

I will escort you as far as your bed, little one. He answered, his voice low, carrying a tone of finality, the way adults often used to talk to him as a boy. He was a warrior and as such, slept beneath the stars rather than within the confines of a woman's ulaq.

Though maybe one day.

The man would only go so far as taking her to bed. This was fine, though Samani would have liked if he would stay longer and tell stories to her sister. Kausiut was a quiet girl and a wild girl. Something about the way that Kigipigak spoke of his home and their peculiar traditions made her think that her sister would enjoy them, might even find inspiration in them.

As Samani led him back to her family den, she bumped softly against his legs. Her mind whirred with the information that he had shared, still confused by it. The moon child would likely ask her mother for clarity, if she remembered to discuss it with Kukutux. Perhaps she would allow it to exist only within her, for her to think on in fitting moments.

As she curled up with the pelt she had carried, Samani felt her lids grow heavy. She bid Kigipigak a good night and watched as he faded away into the darkness outside of their den. Then, sleep took her to dreams of water and stars that glittered in its surface.