It was not without word that she let Kusax̱asaa know of her march to the river. She took two full pelts. “I will take care of them,” she promised, beg as she had to for permission that would have likely been taken regardless. They were slid upon her back, heavy and overly warm as the sun first sat its arms upon her body in the early morning. A dew claw was taken too, held in her mouth. Owl feathers were tucked into thick ear fur, their quills dipped into blood so that they would create firm mats.

It was enough to make it through the first night. How long had it been since she walked alone?
It must have been in the hunt for Sulukinak. Yet somehow, the girl dreamed instead of scaling the mountains, reaching for a peak which she had seen each night in the lonely dark of the lake. Only just a child then. One who said few words, for she had no one to that could give them back to her.

The second night was harder. Tired, eyes closing and legs stumbling as the pain grew unbearable in her gait. It was harder to hide some days. It was easier within Saatsine’s camp with the caribou, where they often had much time to rest. Much time to themselves. In the open, when there were none which she could see, that was when the girl’s body broke free of perfection. Limping, falling. Burning, and every ankle cramping terribly. Sharp pain into the shoulders.

If she slept, would she wake in time to fight?

It was the third morning, where a river made of glass soothed her into deep, deep sleep. Birdsong and wolfsong rushed down into the valley. Gifts from the mountains.

She awoke underneath caribou furs. Rising, it took time for her to act. One was carefully picked from the edge and carefully placed into the river, held in place by a firm paw from floating away. Perhaps it was a blessing that none of the Lanzadoii knew Inupiaq. For it had been the moonvillage tongue. A language she would never let go of, even if it costed her head.

Soft song, for herself and herself alone. “The handsome boy there, he is staring at your face. Do not look, do not look. I will say the words loud so he will hear them: '"What did your father ask in trade?”’Aya, aya, aya.”

The other edge was slowly lifted out, where there a stone was flipped to hold it in place.

“Now he believes you will be married. See how he runs to find his own furs! He will bring them to your father. He will run to ask you first.”

The shadow, ever the shadow. He watched her go. There was a twisted ache in his chest—did he leave her alone, or did he follow? Surely she grew tired of his company. Surely if he dashed off without telling Cen he'd be met with further setbacks—more trouble.

He gave her a solid headstart, nearly a full day, and then he decided he would follow. He did not need to see her to follow her. He was a ranger, and he was an excellent tracker, by scent or sight.

Days slipped by, but come morning on the third day, Aivar heard singing, and he watched the girl curiously. He did not know the words, but he liked the sound regardless.

What was she doing with the pelts? He didn't understand, but he watched from the treeline. He made no move to hide himself, but neither did he announce himself. Let her sing. Let her wash the pelts, if that was indeed what she was doing.

Oh, ever soft. “Aya, aya, aya.”

The river-flow was gentle.

“Aana, I have practiced your songs. ”

At the top of clear waters, a mirror into the world of all that was below the surface. And all that resided above. Rippling green spheres which bore into themselves, flecked with ground pebbles and striped by white lines where the river molded around stone. Nothing would compare, aya, to the emeralds of Nuiruk.

“They say I have your eyes. ”

That of the great moonwoman.
All at once, for only a second in Sedna’s order, there had been a great joy once. Then in the caribou band, only a curse. Shame, and forever guilt.
For He knew that day.
Yet she never knew how, no. Perhaps it should have been known when aana was first met. But now she did. Aya, she did now. She did now.

Moonwoman soul.

“Now I do not see me in my reflection.”

Nutuyikruk could only offer a small smile. Thawed flesh, picked from the claw and thrown into the water.

“It is only you.”

And her mother’s red fur, which she had gained from her father. Aiolos. Aiolos. “A price I pay for never coming to know you, aana, hm?” Grandfather. “Aata.”

“I heard real village girls learn their spirit names when they become women.” A name whispered at birth by one’s mother. But her mother had found goddess Sedna. “I will never know mine.”

She wished her grandma had given her one.

Nutuyikruk would never know. This, she knew. So much so that there was little pain to feel anymore. Only wonder and dreams of what might have been, even if what could be now was not so bad. No, not bad.

“Oh, aana.”

Did her family see her face now?
And all the ones she had never known?

The words she spoke remained foreign to him, and as her singing ceased, and she spoke to the flowing river, Aivar could no longer really make out her words. Intonations, burbling of water, they took turns reaching straining ears. What was she doing? His eyes squinted, straining to see what she tossed into the river.

He didn't want to interrupt whatever she was doing, but he was also desperately curious. Looking down, he saw a greyed, dry piece of wood and intentionally stepped down on it. A crack announced his presence, and he stumbled forward, shaking his head as if he hadn't realized she was there at all.

He smiled sheepishly at the girl, tail swaying as his ears pulled back. “I heard you singing,” he said.

“Three days?”

Nutuyikruk did not look, did not need to. For, she came to accept droplets from her wrists sending their echoes across the top of the river was his ghost finding its way into her path again.

Three days forward. Three days back, if they turned around in the night. More, for all he could have known.

Something tugged a corner of the girls lip up in a pleasant kind of way. He was ludicrous.

Too many words for it, and yet none could form a sentence. A slow shake of her head, and on the last, it moved over the right shoulder to look back.

There was that amber. She was starting to grow familiar with the shade.

“Crazy.”

“Crazy I could hear you singing three days away, yeah?” He grinned. “Pretty sharp ears, huh?” His thin chest felt full of warmth bubbling to the surface, and then laughed at himself. His tail wagged slowly.

“I'm supposed to be helping you, though,” he added, as if that was a suitable excuse. He didn't really need one.

He set his forepaws on a rock that protruded from the river.

He remembered, in a flash, how he'd nearly died in a river.

“What are you doing?” He gestured to the submerged pelt with a paw.

“Yes. Why, only the sharpest of ears in all the lands.” Up to the tips.

She’d not been slow. In the end, maybe, when each leg muscle started to shut down and give out into the very cold that ripped at them. Each time, excitement took over— told her a story of normalcy and a great adventure. It was only that her body betrayed her, and the very control that one was supposed to be gifted at birth was stripped away so easily. A single mistake, being reminded every time Nutuyikruk desired to see the sun.

One fall. Irreversible damage.
One mistake.
What had been his?

A family secret. With none left, perhaps it would not be so bad to share with another. If only one. “Well, wait just a moment, and you will see. But, be still! You are not very good at being calm.” Oh, only the worst ever!

Fish moved close, circling just away from the hides. Little shadows that emerged from the bottom before disappearing, daring a closer each second to submerged hides. Nutuyikruk watched his face, the water, motioning to the fish who she imagined were not far from being in Aivar’s belly if he’d any less restraint. Was his interest true?

“Can you see them?

Aivar chuckled and shook his head, amused that she played along with him.

He watched, though, as Nutuyikruk told him to wait and that he would see what she was doing. He rolled his eyes, smiling faintly. Pff. I am perfectly fine at being calm. Or maybe not. Patience had never been his greatest virtue, but he could stand still just fine.

So he waited, and he watched, unmoving and quiet as the water burbled and the soft wind blew through the needles of the conifers. His eyes shifted to Nutuyikruk's face, and then back to the river where he could see the curious little fish. He still couldn't figure out what she was doing. Making a bed for the fish?

I can, he said quietly. But I still don't know what you're doing. He looked at her with one raised brow.

“Patience is the key to a calm heart.”
Said with a lilt, chest high and chin lifted with definitive pride. Just as aana might have said something of the sorts.

Nutuyikruk stepped to Aivar’s side, but not so close that the water could reach up and drag her into its deeps as stormboy may have. “Is what my aana would say, at least. Or something of those strange sorts.”

Shadows in the water fled from the rivers center and into the shallow, fins emerging from the water in small shiny lines that touched against the hides. Bits of frosted flesh peeled off in milky red hues, a beckon for other fish to close in and do the same. A little army under the surface.

“A family secret I learned, some time ago. From my heartvillage.” Oh, to be just a little fish.. “They pick from the meat and leave behind a clean skin so that it will not rot under sun or catch the nose of bears. They make good for trading. And wonderful naps.”

Aivar smiled lopsidedly, refraining from rolling his eyes, even in jest, as she stepped nearer to his side.

Well, your aana was probably right. He did not know what aana was. His ears were filled with words and phrases he didn't know, and of course, there was only one way to find out.

What does aana mean? He needed to know, even if asking so many questions made him feel like a pup again. Mother? Grandmother? He supposed it could mean father or grandfather, too, or... anything.

He watched the little fish, and slowly, he realized what exactly they were doing. How strange. How ingenious. We never kept pelts where I came from, Aivar said slowly. I don't even know how you peel them off, he smiled at her as he turned his head, teeth shining in the sunlight.