Ouroboros Spine tapvani ⦲

kukutux felt as though she would be watching kigipigak walk into a marriage.

in this, he had no cousin or father to do for him what they might, no brother. he had wandered long, and not settled when the old man had offered him much. but how could a young hunter put up his knives and learn to be father instead, before he was ready? men too had their ways. kigipigak was not a boy. 

as she trudged in the small acrid-smelling pool where she had crushed the heads of fungus and stripped bark, sitting now for many days beneath sun's stare, kukutux smiled. she could only be a sister, here. 

"@Kigipigak," she said, motioning him into the beginning of the day. "come to see what i have made."

a gift, before he departed moonglow to be with sakhmet.

The meeting with Sakhmet had left him in good spirits. Kigipigak dared to stride without aid more often now, and joked with those who visited him at his mending ulaq, and ate heartily of what was shared with him.

He did not protest when Kukutux came to collect him and thought only of Sakhmet; the warmth and good feelings he harbored upon seeing her face now burned within him and he thought, staved away the worst of his pain.

Kukutux led him to a pool of water. It smelled very strongly. It was murky, with pieces floating within it, and he was not sure it was safe to drink from let alone touch; although he trusted his kin, Kigipigak cast her a brief look of confusion.

he had become easier-bound, and now stood with confidence and only some question in his eyes. "these will be bright as new berry meat for many moons," she said, indicating the scarring the cat had left upon the winterhawk. "this will help to turn them to the color of good earth." 

they would be hairless, these places, but the brew would darken them so that they stood like testaments against his pale pelt. "all who see you will say, here is the hunter who has the name kallunguattuk: he who roars with the thunder of lions."

kukutux smiled. "it is almost six days."

Kigipigak had tried not to look at himself once he was able to, disinterested in the look of his new scars as they mended. He hadn't had much opportunity to survey the damage while prone or while the wounds were being treated, and now he could look at himself in the brew of pond water, segmented to pieces by the bits of bark floating on the surface; yes, his scars were quite pronounced.

They were reminders of his foolishness, and he found them distasteful; perhaps that too was proof that he had grown beyond the boyhood adoration of mealy faces, tales of valor and conquest.

Through his judgements Kukutux' voice, —here is the hunter who has the name kallunguattuk: he who roars with the thunder of lions.

It was a fine sentiment. Kigipigak did not see it as such a fine title for himself, though. He had not fought the cat and won, he had struggled against death and barely prevailed. The cat likely roamed in search of more wolf flesh to tarnish and blood to taste. The thought chilled him.

Still, he warms again to Kukutux and smiles for her, drawing his eyes from the water. A few strides sinks his toes in to the soft floor of the pond, and soon he is wading deeper, an ice cap melting in to the green-brown soup she has prepared.

It is almost six days.

Sakhmet will come again, he nods as he says this, a lightness entering his voice. The thought of her is the strongest of medicines. Kigipigak hesitates, sifting bark from his path with a nudge of his chin. I owe you a life-debt. Are you sure I should leave to follow her? Is there anything I can do for you?

kigipigak entered the mixture, and kukutux perched at its edge, tail loose as it was too hot to wrap around her paws with the usual demureness. the sound of sakhmet's name rising from the end of his mouth pleased her, and she gave a sweetened nod. 

but not to his talk of life-debt. not to his unsurety. sakhmet had wept to know he was here, had begged that he be returned to the plateau. they had stood with such longing together upon the border of moonglow, real or imagined, it did not matter to moonwoman. "your path is with her," she said with a simple finality. "and i ask only that you come to visit this village from time to time."

bringing your children, but she did not say this part aloud. "i am blessed to tend you, kiggavik."

The thought of leaving Moonglow was almost too much for Kigipigak, but he knew he could return, and he would return. They would not be so far from the village; he soaked in the pond and thought of the distance Sakhmet must travel in her six days to visit him, and grew warm despite the tepid brew he lounged in.

She surprises me, Kigipigak went on to say of the girl, while idly he buoyed himself against the pond's bottom.

Sakhmet, as if he needed to clarify (he liked to say her name), we spoke of what she wants of her new home, and she does not know. Only that it be a home. But she is no issumatar like my mother, Sedna. It would not make my mother happy to know her. There was a pang of hurt in his chest when he said this, as Kigipigak had not really thought about it before — but the thought came to him as he was speaking and so it was voiced.

She is not a warrior like my mother. Sedna would say she is mikiruk nigatchiak. She would not be welcome in my village. It was fortunate, then, that he was not either. Were he to return to Unnuakvik — with or without Sakhmet — he would be turned away; such was the nature of his people, and this too was not something he thought of.

He considered his own mother as a boy might consider the future, unaware that Kukutux thought similar things.

kigipigak spoke easily and warmly of his mother. she loved to hear the name of her who had raised him, a woman who held many blessings indeed. the scar along the side of her kinsman's face was more animated, his gaze more alight.

sakhmet. she brought him surprise, and he spoke greatly of her home. but not as the leaders he had known. despite the name of sedna, she felt that kigipigak's village was far less welcoming than her own had been, or moonglow was. that it had not hardened him as first-ice in a storm was a wonder. she was grateful for this.

"your mother wants a warrior for you to marry?" kukutux said, slipping into their words. she thought of blue sea ice woman, whom she had not seen for some time. or antares. "sakhmet has much strength. she went far to find you. she came to this place once, and will make a journey back. all this, while she says more have come to this plateau."

but she said no more, not wishing to insult the winterhawk's mother. "she has raised a strong son. and one who is wise." kigipigak must find his own salt-level.

As soon as Kukutux mentioned the word marriage in their tongue, Kigipigak lost his balance. He teetered a bit and felt his cheeks dip first one than the other in to the water, and when he gasped and raised his head above the water's wriggling edge, his cheeks had some color to them.

My people do not marry, Not in the traditional sense the woman held, anyway.

My mother being the issumatar, she could choose from the strongest of men each year. It is how the Tartok continue their conquests. They need strong sons and daughters. If that was the life I had wanted I would not have left, or — or returned there, perhaps in the coming years; or I would have stayed in the forest village beyond the winter.

Kigipigak could not see himself as a father, perhaps ever. He could not claim Sakhmet in such a way as she was not up to the Tartok standard, plus, they did not know one-another well. The thought of marriage spooked him greatly; he sloshed in the water until he found his footing again, and sank, crocodilian, so that his nose and eyes could be seen and the rest obscured in brackish water.

kukutux listened.

it was not so different from moonglow, only that she had given their sivullik more control in her own absence of a husband. and she was not strong in the way that kigipigak meant.

"a path forward may not always be what we have known before," the duck commented lightly, but it was all she would say. despite her own curiosity. despite her own wanting to know if he only meant that a woman could be issumatar.

she watched him descend into the brew.

"stay here for a little time longer. then we will go to the lake."

such a boy to respond as he had done! blushing, avoiding the talk of it at the end, though he revealed much always. kukutux smiled inside her own heart.