Cedar Sweep Pegasus

Crickets roared.

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Malguk would not sleep.

She cried terribly. Eyes that were more than late to opening, and now especially so, they locked tight. She cried until her lungs emptied themselves of breath. A wail untamed, oh, and how her heart fired into a rise and fall. It would not end. As if the world forbade a night of mothers sleep. A trembling bottom lip, shaky and breaking. Nothing would sooth her, and she sobbed until her own hiccups and breath upset her. When the darkness came, their daughter stirred. Every night had been bad with Malguk, but this one had to have been the worst.

He promised he would return her to Asivaq's belly when she quieted. The noise was not a bother to himself, but Kigipigak knew the other children would need sleep, and especially their mother. It was a trial to convince her that he meant well—the issumatar had such strong instincts!—but when she relented, Kigipigak took care and scooped up the wailing little girl, carrying her as if she were a lit candle threatened by the wind between the trees.

Kigipigak did not go too far. He found a sequestering spot to sprawl himself, and tucked the girl against his chest so that his forelimbs were bulwarks, and his chin was above her. This was so far outside the realm of what he'd ever been taught, and he was filled with a new father's fear, despite this being his second chance.

This was, after all, his first (and only) daughter.

What was it that mothers did to soothe their children? Malguk had been warmed by Asivaq's tongue, she had been fed, she had been handled carefully and lovingly, and yet the girl continued to shriek and cry. Kigipigak could think of little else to try, except... Perhaps to speak with her. She would not understand it, and he knew that; but he crooned some low notes anyway, humming and rumbling, with the hope that the depth of his voice might ease some unseen pain, or maybe distract her enough to take a breath.

✭

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Cries, muffled by the warmth of chest fur. Her forehead pressed firmly into him, with inhales of self soothe that had failed a million times in the night. Broken breaths and shattered whines that had been disturbed by nothingness. With legs tucked under her body, and unended exhaustion, there came a quiet. Cradled, if only by warmth of arms, she was kindled in the song that beat from his heart. The music of voice and how it whisked her into a starry trance.

 There must have been something cruel in the cosmos to stir a child so unsettled each night. That it could dare to take light away from the eyes, and warmth from body. That it could be so heartless as to bring moments of silence when you could not even understand sound.

The jolts and twitches that came from her were fumbling sobs, coming to an end in hiccups and big breaths. In her own chest, a madness had surfaced itself whenever the light said goodbye, when mother said goodnight. For every moment of low rumbling notes, Malguk stilled just a little bit more. It was then, that even when the breaths of worry came, they were sung away into oblivion. Earth spoke in its own way now. Wind touched her pure when it shifted just right.
The world was not so cruel.
And she felt okay.

Papa was there.

She fussed and fought, and Kigipigak did not know if what he was doing would work; it did not appear to be fixing anything, but he would try anyway. Slowly the girl eased to stillness, her breathing slowing to something more managable so that she could take breaths without struggle, and slowly yes, she was calmed. Kigipigak did not want to stop once she relaxed—in case that might disturb her. This tiny creature, this little girl that was his.

Had Kigipigak been so involved with his first sons? He could not recall ever holding them in this way. Much of their life had been managed by his first wife—and similarly, the brothers born to Malguk would be watched, protected, and coddled to some degree by Asivaq. Kigipigak would do better, this time. He would make sure his children did not grow up soft, so they could find the same pride in their blood as he had; although for now he was happy enough to hold his daughter, to watch her and to let himself love her.

If her voice was any indication she would be a fearsome child, and over time Kigipigak would cultivate that ferocity and that innate force of will, so that Malguk could thrive.