Ouroboros Spine The big lake they call Gitche Gumee

this time, kukutux attended also.

it was no longer seemly for her to linger at the ulaq as if her body was sick. it was not; the duck was merely injured. her broken wing did not stop the taqqiq; she hobbled toward the sound of bronco's voice with a determination.

through their time at moonspear, kukutux had come to think of meerkat and her brother as her ujuruq. this was extended in a more familial way to antares, who her heart leapt to see. the arc dissolved beneath worry as his tall frame with the careful mark of ostrega obsidian and her late marriage-sister's stamp full — as he sank down alongside bronco.

she almost did not realize raimo's prowl as her strength gave out and she staggered to a stop, injured leg tucked and a plume of breath rising into the still-chilled air of early spring. she saw him as a shadow, moving nearer to the fireflies than she. 

whatever he truly felt, he had established himself as isiksuruk: hunter persisting, first of moonglow's own. by which kukutux meant men; it did not matter if she or the other women hunted, for it had been a term attached only to her forefathers. she had no reason to forbid hunting by role, and so the duck did not, but 'hunter' in her mind would always be the circle over which she had no control.

and until a man challenged raimo for first-hunter, he was head of the men's secrets, regardless of whatever he spoke or did not speak of. this was the position she had silently given him in moonglow. but he in trust he was below those she had known longer.

she raised herself up again, gave a swish of her plume against the pale horizon in answer. i am here.