Moonspear uuliutik ◯

why did Sedna visit again and again in such a darkened manner?

kukutux carried many things to the mountain that day, and not each of them were grandmotherly offerings of food.

had she failed here? why had sialuk gone? was there a reason to be sought?

moonwoman sang to announce herself but did not stop; she crossed over and began to climb toward where sialuk had once made her ulaq.

After seeing Periane preparing the fox’s pelt, it inspired Pie to wash the worn skins lining the ulaq that once belonged to Sialuk. She carried them one by one to the nearest stream, holding each down in the current with one paw and using the other to scrape dirt from from the fur. She laid them out in the dooryard to dry.

All but one. She’d left the biggest, softest skin untouched. It still smelled like her anaa. Tiuttuk didn’t care that it was filthy. This was her ulaq now, yet she refused to clear away her mother’s scent. No, she would cling to it as long as it lasted…

She stood in the doorway, idly inspecting her handiwork and easing the crick from her neck, when a familiar voice rose up the mountain. Treepie bounded over the drying pelts, racing partway down Moonspear’s flank to meet her climbing grandmother.

Greetings! she said breathlessly, romping up to Kukutux more like a puppy than a yearling—and Emprex!

joy and surprise danced across the face of kukutux. a quick and warm smile came, followed by the lift of her arm for embrace. "it is good to see your face."

"i have spoken with alaric." sialuk had gone and moonwoman had believed this girl departed too. seeing treepie pleased her with no small degree of relief.

granddaughter smelled of familiar leather and tanned hides. kukutux smiled with approval. it bespoke settlement; the fact that the girl had not left the mountain said perhaps she did not mean to do so.

the duck chose not to question.

It’s good to see yours, Tiuttuk echoed, nuzzling her grandmother’s chin before drawing back to look at said face.

“I have spoken with Alaric,” Kukutux said.

Treepie puffed out a breath, swinging tail slowing. She took this to mean that she already knew about Sialuk’s departure. She felt a small measure of relief at that. Surely her grandmother would want to talk about it, though at least Pie wouldn’t have to break the news.

I miss her, she said, but when I left her in that northern village, she was the happiest I’d ever seen her.

She frowned at the bittersweet memory, wishing she could show Kukutux the image burned in her mind. Pie also wished she could’ve seen Sialuk like that here on Moonspear, of course, and held out hope that one day, she would.

sialuk had not been happy here, that was the message gleaned by moonwoman.

a nod was given. "if her heart is settled in another place, then it must be so." springjade eyes regarded the granddaughter.

the last —

"but your spirit was not content to stay?" she pressed gently with soft assumption. hare-pelt was laid out then, open; seedlings bulged and coils of sinew announced a more settled gift.

"i have brought these things for an ulaq." kukutux smiled. "i have the thought they must be yours."

Her inner voice refuted, I am staying. But Tiuttuk knew what Kukutux meant. It was a softer version of the same question Glaukos had posed. It was none of his business, though she didn’t mind sharing her feelings with her grandmother.

Where anaang was so much happier for being away, I only struggled. I told her she should stay, that I would look after Moonspear in her stead. But I felt like a failure when I returned. I couldn’t even handle a leadership retreat; how could I then become a leader?

She let the question hang for a moment, eyes sparkling as she admired the wares her grandmother had brought. When her yellow gaze lifted, she pressed a kiss to the pale woman’s cheek. Treepie wanted to tell her about her recent ascension, but first…

Thank you, grandmother. I’ve been staying in her ulaq. Let’s head there, Pie said, carefully scooping up the bundle to carry there.

her climb was slow. hips that had begun to ache now truly twinged. had it been from all the sitting? the leather-making, the circles?

well then. she would not regret it.

sialuk's ulaq. her heart hurt to see it, and rejoiced for the same. oil and leather; the scent of washed fur. wood worn by hanging pelts.

it was a space still warm in her daughter's absence. tiuttuk had kept it this way.

curls of salmon, dessicated hunks of elk fat, three oysters carefully wrapped in kelp, having been buried deep these months. more — loose bundles of wheatgrass, three green stones, and cormorant feathers from the coast, gotten in trade when moontide stood.

their glossy darkness gleamed even now.

pouches of powdered kelp, chamomile, lavender, nettle, white lichen, torn oakleaf, mint, rosehips.

otterhide and last, a caribou skin, pristine despite the far distance it had been carried, and burnished with age.

"so. you will be sage of this village?" kukutux asked first, encouraging her granddaughter to begin with the shellfish.

Only when they reached the ulaq and Kukutux unloaded her goods could Tiuttuk properly appreciate the spread. She drew in a breath, marveling at all the items laid before her, the effort and time it must’ve taken to gather all of this. She felt humbled by it and there was a slight shimmer to her eyes when they rose back to her grandmother’s face.

Maybe one day, I will rule, she replied, but for now, I serve as its Emprex, apprenticing under Alaric to learn everything I can about leadership. Not just from him, but from anyone willing to guide me.

She stopped short of asking Kukutux directly, especially with all these gifts laid at her feet. But the implication was there. Treepie knew she still had a lot to learn, especially if she wanted to be a well-rounded leader.

It’s also possible I’m not suited to be an Alpha, she added humbly after a moment, pawing the shellfish. I’m not very good in social situations, for instance. When it’s just a few others, particularly kin, that’s fine. But large inter-pack gatherings… well, they’re not my scene.

She trailed off, wondering if Kukutux had noticed her absence at the winter wedding receiption. After that—and the failed leadership retreat—Tiuttuk had very much doubted her own merits. But she was on an upswing lately, recognizing the other things she might offer, and there was a proud tilt to her mouth as she regarded the matriarch.

kukutux clucked her tongue in a low pierce of sound. "tiuttuk. you are a daughter of ostrega, granddaughter to nuiruk. it is here that your mother was born, on this mountain. it belongs to you. do not doubt this."

a small work-hardened paw reached to brush that of her grandchild's own. "it is good that you listen. it is what i do when there are many around. as moonwoman, as atsak, i am expected to speak. but there are many times when i must only show my face, and open my hearing to the words which are said."

she had noticed, but she did not mention such now. the girl would say when the moment had come. 

"i will give you lessons of healing and the stories of this place. both are yours, and both you will need if you choose to become ruler of this village."

she did not press.

kukutux had learned that even a firm press in love was able to shatter.

I welcome anything you want to teach me, Treepie said, dipping her head humbly to the matriarch as their paws brushed.

She didn’t fancy herself a healer, though it didn’t seem like the right time to mention that. Pie would be happy to learn the basics, at the very least. She felt much more passionate about storytelling and thrilled at the thought of learning the family’s lore to pass on to others, particularly younger generations.

It means so much that you believe in me, grandmother. I just think I have a long way to go before I can consider myself an eligible Alpha, she tried to explain. Perhaps next spring, I’ll be ready.

Her thoughts cast ahead. Next spring, she would turn two and experience her first heat, if she was fortunate. Treepie worried about her anatomy, yet she held out hope that she would be able to find a suitable sire and realize her greatest dream of all: becoming an anaa.

Tiuttuk shifted on her feet and motioned for Kukutux to make herself at home, then settled down herself. Still she marveled at the pile of gifts filling her ulaq. She imagined there was a story behind each one.

I would be happy to sit here and talk with you however long you want to stay, she said, but I’d also love to hear any stories you want to share, about these or anything else.

She waved a paw over the objects lovingly spread on the floor, then lifted her yellow eyes to her grandmother’s face.

next spring.

kukutux too let her thoughts course to the future, wondering if tiuttuk did not think herself ready until she was able to become anaa. this was a noble thought, instilled by the nuiruk practices of marriage no doubt, or so the ageing woman told herself.

"i first lived in a place beside the sea. the islands of siqniq. i came here alone and after some time, i came to a place which had the name of courtfall."

courtfall, where she had met aiolos.

where she had met agana.

she paused to crack an oyster as she spoke, demonstrating the seafood for her mountain-runner grandchild. "i wanted a husband, always. the ruling woman of courtfall, she brought me here, to this mountain. i was not yet a woman in the way of Sedna; Her fire had not come to me. aurewen gave me to pay a debt. i did not know this."

carefully she put the shells aside.

"i have not said these names in many, many years, tiuttuk," kukutux murmured, worry suffusing her heart. "but i will tell them to your ears now. hydra was headwoman here, and her brother jarilo beside her. it was he, who i called blackfox, who accepted me as wife."

she remembered him now, his laughing greenstone eyes and the impossible darkness of his coat which made his teeth gleam in whiteglow. he had been beautiful, this grandfather of the girl seated with her now. "soon i grew with child. your anaa and her brother, who is now called mauruk."

that name; that name she would not say, not when it had heralded the end of samani.

"here they were born. we lived in happiness. there were two more brothers, sons of ostrega. one is only called grey brother now. but the second was arcturus. i do not know where he has gone."

"a great star fell to moonspear and destroyed much of it for a time. large stones rolled into firefly glen. i woke away from the mountain. it was arcturus who found me and brought me here, where i waited for your anaa. i did not know if she breathed. i did not know if blackfox or the moon hunter who was my son lived."

"of them, only sialuk returned."

for a time kukutux was quiet.

"we built moonglow in waiting. we sang the death songs to our people, for nine nights, and then we made the village."

her smile was soft.

"much strength lives in you, tiuttuk. when you are ready, it is there."

Although Treepie watched her grandmother’s handiwork avidly, it was her voice that captured most of the yearling’s attention. Kukutux spoke of her birthplace beside the sea, then her first home beyond it. Her talk of husbands and heats elicited a flush, not out of embarrassment but out of a sort of desperation. Would she come by these things, in time?

Well, she knew she loved the idea of romance, though whether she wanted a husband or wife wasn’t something she’d yet decided. But it was her anatomy that gave her pause on everything. Every day, Tiuttuk quietly worried that her dream of becoming an anaa was out of reach. She was, after all, Tapitsik. Sialuk had whispered the name to her upon their parting.

These thoughts were set aside as she retained her focus on her grandmother’s story. It took Tiuttuk a moment to piece together what she knew, her yellow eyes widening a little when she realized Kukutux spoke the names of the dead. Blackfox, she found herself repeating in her head. Jarilo. Sialuk’s long-dead father, never named to her ears until now.

I know about the strange storm, she murmured, her only interruption as she let Kukutux finish.

That was when her grandfather—Jarilo, she repeated silently—had died, along with many others. Their names danced through her head. She tucked them into a pocket of her heart, wondering if Arcturus might still be alive somewhere. She didn’t think her anaa had ever mentioned him or his fate…

Thank you for telling me this, Treepie said, clutching Kukutux’s paw again and squeezing it.

After exchanging a glance with the pale elder, she helped herself to an oyster. Her eyes widened at the umami taste of it. Part of her wanted to spit it out, another enjoyed the wild flavors swarming her mouth. Not to mention the odd texture. She had never eaten anything quite like it. She swallowed, unsure if she ever wanted to again…

You spoke of searching for a husband. After… grandfather passed away, how long was it before you found Aiolos? How did you meet him? Pie wondered, still licking her lips. Did you ever take multiple lovers at once, like mother?

She wondered out of true curiosity about Kukutux’s life, though she asked for herself too. What if she would rather take a wife than a husband? Treepie had no idea if she would want more than one lover, having never even had that much. She knew a bit about Sialuk’s love life, though not the formal customs of her people, she realized. Pie hoped her grandmother might impart some of that knowledge now.

their paws clasped beneath the duck's smile; emerald eyes searched that young face, brightening with a smile as tiuttuk attempted the oyster. it was a taste not immediately acceptable to one who did not live beside the sea; for kukutux such morsels evoked her time in upon the salt ice.

it was those memories she drew now, shaking her head. "first you must know that the villages of the sunshine people in the shadow of the long dark, we live far from one another. marriage was made early, but not in love. a boy's father would bring him to the ulaq of a girl's family. they did not know one another. a marriage was made for a time that had not yet arrived. the girl was able to say she would not have him. my sister refused," she laughed softly, "but i did not. he was a seal hunter boy, and we had nine moons. i was sent away, to live with him in his village for a time. then he came to live in the ulaq of my father. in this way, two grow to know one another. much more time meant to pass before i was ready to be wife and he husband, but it was made early for the cold and the ice took so many hunters, and women as well."

a breath. "i tell you this, granddaughter, so that you see i did not see marrying as love. i did not think of love, and i did not seek it with blackfox." her green eyes shone. "though — i felt that we found this." sorrowing, her chest swelling with an inhale; "the storm took that first new love and killed the years that might have come."

she looked off now, toward the sunspire, considering.

"aiolos lived in courtfall, once. we shared many words over hands of time. he brought to me once his son, huojin, who i felt sialuk might accept as an ugi." an irony; an irony.

"he was friend to me. he did not seek more. i did not offer more. my spirit loved your grandfather, and had broken when he did not come down from this mountain."

"there was one man in the new village of moonglow. raimo."

a pause.

"we lay together. but we did not share — we had harshness, between us. he did not stay. it was not a good thing."

remembering; lingering.

"aiolos was chieftain in the place of yuelong, a village built upon an island. yuelong fell and moonspear also. we found one another not long after." softly, eyes closing. "aiolos gave me his love through my grief. he waited for me to love him." 

grandmother's gaze found granddaughter again. "and when my heart came to love, it was full. and it has been the same for all the years that have come after."

She was a romantic; she wanted to fall in love and find an ugi. Pie would never choose a transactional marriage and wondered why Kukutux had chosen to honor the traditions rather than reject them, like her sister. “I did not think of love,” she explained, though it had sprung up between them anyway. Treepie thought that was somehow more romantic than any love story she’d ever heard… and, of course, not without a tragic ending.

It had been a slow burn with Aiolos too. He had tried to pair his son with Kukutux’s daughter, Pie’s own anaa. Her brows rose. Friendship had turned into more only after much time and many perils. Tiuttuk frowned over the thought of Raimo treating her beloved grandmother harshly, though she dismissed him from her mind. He hadn’t been an important part of “moon woman’s” story, in the end.

You found love twice, Treepie recapped. I know mother thought she found it a few times too, only to be jilted. She never took a husband or a wife. But I think she wanted—and deserved—love. I think she may have found it, where I left her. I hope she did. I hope she’s happier than she’s ever been. I hope she gives me more brothers and sisters, even if I can’t see them…

She hadn’t meant to steer the conversation this way. Nor had she anticipated the lump in her throat and the moisture in her eyes. Treepie blinked, the tears streaking down her dark cheeks, her watery eyes looking helplessly to Kukutux.

arms opened to bereft daughter of her own.

love.

love's power had drawn sialuk away, and in this there was some comfort.

but not for tiuttuk. or perhaps in a different shade.

"what does your heart want here, on this mountain?" kukutux murmured. sialuk had found her heart away; her legacy rested here upon the place of fallen stones.

this village, it stood in the same histories as those below.

she too wished for sialuk's happiness; she thought only that it had come at the expense of her granddaughter's grief.

yet forward they walked, the eternal chant of a heart which had broken far too often.

Tiuttuk tucked herself into her grandmother’s waiting embrace, swallowing against the lump in her throat. She really hadn’t meant to drag down the room, proverbially speaking, but she was so grateful Kukutux was here where her mother and father couldn’t be.

When questioned about her vision for the mountain, Treepie immediately answered in her mind: I wish anaa and taataa stayed here and gave me too many brothers and sisters to count! I would help rear them and prepare myself to become a mother next year…

But she didn’t voice this wish, as it couldn’t come to pass. Her heart mourned as she nudged it aside, trying to make room for a different sort of vision. It was painful, that gap inside her, and nothing would fill it just right. But Treepie was determined to give her grandmother’s query the sincere consideration it deserved and come up with an answer—for herself as much as for her grandmother.

I want to learn all I can from my elders, she said in the common tongue, pulling back to look into that pale face, and become the best leader I can be for my village. Then I want to build a family here someday, with wolves like Alaric and Tikaani here to be my support system. And I’ll be theirs too, of course. I want to fill this village with babies, she admitted with a wet little laugh.