Amaroq No Longer

Chapter One:Monsters


>“Good Lord” I saw as I thumb through the papers “Where wasn’t this man stationed?”
>Truth be told I was not entirely qualified to handle this case. Or any prisoner case really.
>This should have been done by some disciplinary committee, not by the War Department.
>And yet here I was, the order came from the top.
>I even heard rumors that the King himself had given the command.
>Though that was a bit unbelievable.
>This man definitely had a friend or two in high places.
>But not that high.
>Not high enough to get him put in a more cushy prison.
>This was probably the last remaining London prison that hadn’t gone through the reforms.
>It was obvious he was put here on purpose by the brass.
>If they couldn’t kill him. They would make his experience a living hell.
>This place stank.
>My sensitive nose could pick up on the scent of stale urine, unwashed masses, and vermin.
>Frankly it was disgusting, I couldn’t wait to get this over with and back to my office.
>I look through the papers as I walk down the stone hallway.
>Graduate from Sandhurst and promoted to 2nd lieutenant.
>Deployed to Sudan in 1896 during the conquest of the Mahdi state.
>Performance was superb, if bloody.
>Lots of experience leading raids.
>Christ he was even at Omdurman.
>The stories about his majesty’s forces there were….unpleasant.
>And once again his performance earned him commendation by his commanders.
>I licked my thumb as I flip the page.
>He was transferred midway through the new year to Tianjin, China when it was taken back from the Boxers.
>He commanded a battalion from India.
>Casualties were frankly appalling, but he succeeded in all of his orders.
>His last military expedition was the siege of Peking.
>Promoted to Captain afterwards.
>Then there was his new station in South Africa.
>...ah yes his post at the Van Zyl internment camp.
>Now it was all starting to make sense to me.
>Frankly I wasn’t surprised.
>If read between the lines, one could see this individual was simply a blood thirsty thug.
>Up until now, his commanders tolerated his brutality since it benefited them.
>I wasn’t too surprised, the British Army command seemed to only see short term gains and not long term consequences.
>They’d heap promotion upon promotion on this wretch, not understanding they couldn’t control such a person when he eventually turned on them.
>This was why there should have been better recruitment standards for the British Army!
>Especially for their damned officers!
>“S-sir?” a guard says. Snapping me out of my internal rant.
>“What is it?” I say, a little harsher than I meant.
>“The, uh, prisoner has been put back in his cell. The warden has allowed you to speak with him.”
>“Ah, excellent. I take it he’s been properly groomed for me?”
>“Uh, well sir, he was given some time to bathe. But that’s about it.”
>I sigh and tell the man to take me to him. This place really was a horror.
>After we deal with this lecher, this prison should really confirm to the new reforms.
>“Ah, sir. Before you go in, the warden has a few rules with interacting with this particular fellow.”
>“Oh?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
>“The most important rule is to not stand closer than three feet away from him. This lad’s got a reputation around here.”
>I roll my eyes. The man was just a common criminal now, no reason to build up some mythos around him.
>“Fine” I acquiesce. “Anything else.”
>“As long as you’re in there with him, he’ll be restrains with standard chains.”
>I was about to balk at this ludicrous overestimation when he added the last condition.
>“And a guard is to be stationed with you at all times inside the cell. The cell will be locked and there will be a guard posted outside as well.”
>At this point I was so astounded at all these unnecessary precautions I could only chuckle.
>“I never knew the Warden to be so paranoid.”
>The guard frowned.
>“With this one he is, sir. He’s a real killer I heard.”
>I shrug my shoulders. I couldn’t really argue with that.
>But with that in mind, no singular man should be held up as more feared than a battalion or even squad of soldiers.
>Such exaggerations were for stories told to women and children.
>Even so, when I eventually reached the cell and the iron bars opened, this belief was severely put to the test.
>His hair and beard were long, matted and tangled. It was likely he hadn’t been given a hair cut since he had been incarcerated almost a year ago.
>Still, beneath all that hair covering his face, I could feel his steely eyes, gazing down at me like a hawk.
>His body was in a poor state however. For whatever reason he was shirtless and I could see a number of red sores covering his torso. 
>Most likely stemming from the dirty conditions at the prison.
>Plus there were the grisly scars which covered his torso from his years in front line combat.
>Queerly, when I first saw him, I could only think of the monster Grendel from the Beowulf epic. 
>“Are you Anon Anonymous?” I asked matter of factly.
>“I am.” He said in a monotone voice that irritated me.
>“Why were you not dressed properly before being constrained?” I indicated his shirtless state.
>I could hear him sucking his teeth in.
>“I just finished bathing. I did not wish to soak my only shirt.”
>I narrowed my eyes at him.
>He had a thick Brummie accent.
>How did someone like him ended up at a school like Sandhurst?
>“Are we going to have a problem, Anon?”
>He lifted his head to look at him.
>I swore he was baring his teeth at me like some kind of canine anthro.
>Despite being a human, he looked more like a beast.
>“Careful with your tone.” he spit out “A year ago I was a Captain.”
>I honest to God reacted with a belly laugh.
>“A year ago, Anon, you should have been shot or hanged for high treason against the crown.”
>He says nothing to this.
>Good that shut him up and showed him his place.
>I swear it’s always the Brummies… 
>“So. Why am I still alive?” he asked.
>“A very good question! I’m wondering that myself.”
>I sighed and folded my arms.
>“It seems someone important has vouched for your skills-
>“Bollocks!” he interrupted “I’m not the only bloke around who’s good at shooting.”
>I cleared my throat.
>“It’s not your combat experience which the crown is interested in.”
>I could see a frown form behind this caveman’s face as he tried to understand what was going on.
>“According to your transcript, Anon, at Officer’s school you picked up both French and German?”
>He only meekly nodded at this. Not understanding where this was leading.
>“Then during your four years in Sudan you managed to pick up Arabic? Both verbal and written?”
>He once again nodded silently.
>Now he looked more like a befuddled child.
>“Finally, while in the Qing you taught yourself Mandarin?”
>“Only a cursory amount.” He admitted “I wouldn’t call myself fluent in it.”
>Well that wasn’t surprising, he was only stationed there for a year after all.
>“Tell me, Anon, before your….incident were you planning on teaching yourself the Boer language while stationed in South Africa?”
>I saw him turn his hands into fists, trying to grind his fingernails into his palms.
>“Yes.” He said in between grinding his teeth “I would have like to learn the language of that noble people.”
>I could only scoff at him.
>He really did act like a child at times.
>He was fitting the Grendel imagery more and more it seems.
>“It seems, Anon, that you have a linguistic talent which the crown would like to utilize properly. If of course you agree to our conditions.”
>He opened his mouth, but it was my turn to interrupt.
>“And please, Anon, don’t ask what’ll happen if you refuse. You know already.”
>I could see I took the wind out of his sail in a sense. He merely, slumped his shoulders.
>“What are the conditions?” He asked wearily
>I smiled.
>“You will be officially dishonorably discharged from his majesty’s armed forces and your rank will be permanently stripped from you. Do you have any next of kin by any chance?”
>“No…”
>“Excellent. In that case all of your remaining funds will be confiscated by the crown.”
>Surprisingly, he didn’t react at all to this.
>I guess his honor and means to support himself weren’t one of his priorities.
>Typical Brummie.
>“You will be ‘employed’ by the Crown. But in essence you are now property of the Crown until notified otherwise.”
>“What’s my job?!” He snapped, getting impatient.
>I rolled my eyes and rubbed the bridge of my nose.
>By the good Lord I wanted to get out of here.
>“Are you familiar with the various Inuit tribes in Canada?”
>He shook his head “Not really, no.”
>I wish I could call him ignorant. But I mean really, who knew anything about those people.
>“The Crown and certain commercial enterprises are interested in tapping into the whaling industry currently dominated by the Japanese Empire.”
>“And you think these natives can assist?” Anon asked doubtfully.
>I merely shrugged my shoulders.
>“Admittingly, the Canadian Government has been relocating many of the natives in an attempt to assimilate them. But a few isolated tribes remain further out in the wilderness. Specifically, there is one tribe that have a keen understanding of the migration patterns of the bowhead whale.”
>Anon nodded his head slowly.
>“Where are they?” he asked curiously.
> “At the Delta of the Mackenzie river. They speak some language dialect that is obscure even among other tribes. The Crown believes you would be a good candidate to pick up their language, and begin to teach them English if possible.”
>Anon grunted out an affirmative.
>“Oh!” I exclaimed “I almost forgot. Reports say that this tribe are all anthros.”
>“Really?” Anon said, his curiosity showing. “Some kind of Fox or Wolf I presume?”
>“Not quite.” I smirked “They’re actually Leopard Seals.”
>Anon cocked his head, he wanted to ask more.
>But frankly I was done. I wanted to get out of this horrid cesspit and away from this man.
>“I’m afraid I’m out of time for you, Anon. You either take this deal, or you can face a firing squad next week.”
>He looked up at me.
>God, those eyes truly were like that of a wild animal.
>It was absurd that a killer like him was going to be teaching ABC’s to primitives.
>“I’ll do it.” he said slowly.
>I didn’t say anything to him.
> I signaled for the guard to open the cell door.
>As I walked out and watched the iron bars close behind me, I made a keen observation.
>The more I had talked to Anon, the more I realized that the Warden’s paranoia about this man was largely unfounded. I found him more unpleasant than anything else.
>But now that I was more than a few feet away from him and a iron prison now contained his personage, I looked upon him as what probably every guard in the prison saw him as.
>A monster to be feared.
>And now I was to let him out.


>“Welp, here we are, Anon.”
>You look away from the ship captain and out towards the delta of the Mackenzie.
>It was an astonishing sight.
>It looked like a vast green field had been smashed into by meteors, leaving craters that filled with water.
>It was absurd how idyllic this landscape looked. Wasn’t this supposed to be the frozen wasteland of Canada?
>The Captain nods.
>“It’s the tail end of the warm season right now. In about a month the snow is gonna come back and the water will freeze over.”
>“Frankly, Anon” he adds “We pretty much left at the last minute. If I waited any longer I wouldn’t have been able to get us into the Beaufort sea.”
>You frown at this and ask him if he’ll be able to get into a warm water port in time.
>This had been a six month trip out at sea. You had grown fond of the old bear.
>As in he was a gray haired bear Anthro. An American veteran of their war against Spain.
>In fact most of his crew had been in one naval conflict or another.
>He waves his paw dismissively at you.
>“I’ll be fine Anon, plus if we can’t make it out in time I got friends in Anchorage who can find us a place to stay for the Winter.
>You nod slowly, hoping it wouldn’t come to that and they could get out in time.
>He leans on the rail next to you and looks out at the Delta.
>“So Leopard seals huh?”
>You nod.
>“Well the Canucks leave them well enough alone. How long are you staying here? One year? Two years?”
>Twelve year actually.  
>“Well holy Hell, Anon! Might as well just live here permanently. Sounds more like a jail sentence if you ask me.”
>Ha. If only he knew.
>They were actually only going to give you a decade, but you requested an extra two years to ensure you learned the language.
>The difference between this and something like Mandarin is at least Mandarin had a writing system for a point of reference.
>Here it was all oral. You had to just pick it all up in your head.
>You ask him if he knew what the tribe was called.
>He scratches his chin.
>“Er….Siglitun I think. Plus most of the Indians in this region don’t call it the Mackenzie delta.”
>Oh?
>“Some long drawn out word. The Indians love those more complicated phrases. Lots of U’s and O’s”
>Wonderful… 
>“I usually just shorten it to Tut.”
>Well that certainly makes things easier.
>Still you couldn’t hope to learn a language just by shortening the more packed words.
>Especially if there is no written language.
>You wanted to know how they lived. You just assumed you would be living in an igloo or something.
>But other than a layer of permafrost, there wasn’t much snow yet, despite the chilly weather.
>The captain shook his head.
> “Naw, nothing like that. Sometimes they’ll make tents from animal skin when going on a prolonged hunt. But usually it’s just sod houses with some animal bones and driftwood thrown in.”
>You grumbled. Didn’t sound like the most cleanly living standards.
>Plus you only had a vague idea how to build something like that.
>You hear shouting from the lookout up above.
>The captain looks at you and offers a small smile.
>“Seems like this is as far as she’ll go. You’ll have to row from here.”
>You nod, apologizing for having to take one of his smaller boats.
>“Ah don’t worry about it. We can pick up another one at Anchorage.”
>He extends out his hand to you.
>You shake it. After your past ordeals. It was comforting to have sailed with such a generous captain.
>“Do you have everything packed, Anon? We’ll load it on the boat.”
>You nod. You had enough salted meat and hard biscuits to last you for about eight months.
>After that you’d have to fend for yourself.
>Plus you had some tools: A hand shovel, axe, knife, and a rifle with a couple dozen rounds.
>You’d have to keep the ammo conserved for the next dozen years.
>You also brought with you about half a dozen blank notebooks for writing and drawing.
>As well as a Bible for reading material.
>Finally you had about two thick packs of furs. Mostly Beaver furs given to you by the British Government.
>Some of it were for your own personal use. But most of it was to be used to trade with the Natives to ingratiate yourselves with them.
>“Alright, Anon. Your belongings are all packed. Water’s calm right now so rowing should be easy.”
>You nod as you climb into the boat, waiting to be lowered into the ocean below.
>“The closest Canadian settlement” the Captain added “Is about 200 miles south from here I think. You’d have to follow the river itself when you need to get back to civilization.”
>You try you best express your sincerest thanks for his services.
>You probably didn’t do that great of a job.
>The captains waves it off.
>“Just part of the job, Anon. Oh, that reminds me, before I forget!”
>He orders his crew to stop lowering you and pops open a nearby barrel.
>He pulls out a long, narrow dark bottle.
>“Here, catch.”
>He drops it down to you.
>“That’s Caribbean rum! Picked up a couple of barrels after the war!”
>You shout your thanks as the boat continues to lower you in until your beard gets soaked by the splash.
>You grab the the two oars and begin your journey to the Delta.
>Slowly but surely you can see the ship rotate and being to leave the sea.
>You really hoped that they would make it out before the waters froze over.
>You didn’t want them being trapped in Alaska or some other hellhole being on your conscious.
>You had enough to deal with.

>You finally reached land, but it wasn’t exactly solid.
>It reminded you of the Nile Delta when you briefly passed through it on your way to Sudan.
>The soil was soft, you could easily lose a boot or some other possession if you weren’t careful.
>But it wasn’t muddy per say. At least not all the time. It was just loose sediment that got sloshed around constantly by the tide.
>You groaned. You couldn’t row any further but you’d have to drag the stupid boat for some time before reaching more solid land.
>And you were frankly, exhausted from rowing a good mile before reaching land.
>A bit of a ways out you saw smoke.
>Must have been the village.
>They were probably on more solid earth.
>You grunted as you tied a rope to the boat and began to pull it through the shallow water and soil.
>Now you were wading through the craters of water and muck that you had admired in the distance.
>It didn’t seem so great now that the water had gotten into your boots and soaked your trousers.
>You could see where the firmer earth began, but it always seemed like no matter how far you walked it stayed at a distance.
>It was like China all over again.
>After an hour of trekking through the delta you were drenched and covered in dirt.
>It felt like it was going to get glued and hardened to your beard. Which you still hadn’t shaved since leaving the prison.
>You figured the long, coarse beard would do well for the weather.
>With a liberal amount of cursing, you pull the damn boat out of the water.
>You were exhausted at this point.
>You allow yourself to fall to your knees and flop down on the grass.
>You were also freezing.
>That water was cold.
>You kinda forget you were close to THE ARCTIC.
>You’d have to build a fire soon.
>And make some kind of shelter.
>“Qallunaat!”
>Wha…
>“Qallunaat Umikuk!”
>You roll over on your side.
>Your eyes widen.
>It was them!
>Well at least two children.
>Your time in the British military had you interact with a whole variety of peoples and anthros.
>But you had never seen anything like this.
>You had no way to describe except…
>They were bipedal seals.
>With large black eyes with only the furthest corners showing any signs of white.
>They were clearly children and yet they were already around five feet tall.
>You couldn’t imagine how tall the adults were.
>Their skulls were had a fairly long oval shape. Though they were actually relatively small but that was probably because they were children.
>You notice their distinct jaw. You could imagine those teeth could cause some serious damage.
>With their mouths closed though, they had a permanent look on their faces that was either amusement or boredom.
>The short whiskers on their face didn’t give you any hints either.
>You’re not really sure which one it was.
>You couldn’t really tell what their body was like since their thick fur clothes gave them a far more fatter appearance than they most likely were.
>Their fur, what little of it you could see. Was certainly not poofy or fluffy like some other anthro species.
>It was short, gray fur that looked more like skin itself.
>Their legs were digitigrade, but the angles their ankles and legs far more mild than other anthros, which was always noticeable to humans
>You actually had to look a little closer to notice and you could briefly make the mistake of thinking these seals had centigrade legs.
>Their feet were wrapped up in fur shoes, but you could get a general impression by the shape.
>It seemed they resembled the flippers of their feral counter parts. But they had bent forward to be flat and probably had more bones to support the rest of the body and to not make walking awkward.
>However the most peculiar thing about them were their hands.
>They didn’t have fingers like other… well humans and other intelligent species.
>Once again it was hard to tell behind all their animal hides. But it looked as if their arms were actually rather narrow.
>But then things got a lot wider starting at the wrists.
>Their hands were basically just giant flippers, with three deep indentations for to create psuedo-fingers
>The very first ‘finger’ was the largest, longest, and widest. It was probably their equivalent of a thumb.
>The other two fingers were much smaller in scale, probably meant to just help with grasping things.
>You speculated that they probably couldn’t use firearms unless it was custom made for them, due to the size and severe difference of their hands.
>There were some Anthro species, specifically the larger ones like Rhinos that had to have specialized rifles made for them.
>But at least they had thumbs and fingers that could grasp a gun.
>These people seemed truly alien to you.
>“Atatuk!” One of the children yelled. “Tapvani Qallunaat!”
>You could sense they were shouting for someone else further away.
>As you slowly get up you see another, larger anthro standing behind them.
>By God. He was huge!
>Once again the thick clothes made him look bulkier than he really was.
>But these beings were giants! They must have been eight or even eight and a half feet tall.
>There were only a few Anthro species in the world that got as tall as that!
>He’s holding a wooden spear with a stone tip.
>He looks shocked to see you and is grips his spear with both of his hands.
>“Kinatut Ipvit!” it shouts at you nervously.
>You make sure to show your hands to him.
>You somehow had to make friends with a people who did not know you, nor could understand you.
>And you were probably encroaching on their territory.
>They didn’t even have a written language!
>How the hell were you going to pull this off?
>Wait a minute.
>You had an idea.
>You remember reading something about American Indians.
>Maybe it would work with these ones.
>With the seal watching you carefully, you slowly walk back to your boat.
>You reach down and grab the bottle of Rum the Captain had given you.
>You slowly raise the bottle out in front of you and shake it.
>The seal looks at you with curiosity.
>You pop open the cork and take a swig to show it was sa-
>OH FUCK!
>Christ, this Rum is strong!
>And it is NOT smooth at all.
>You resist the urge to cough and gag as you weakly extend your arm and offer it to the seal.
>He tilts his head as he lowers his weapon and slowly walks over to you.
>You can feel your eyes water from the liquor.
>And your sinuses clear out too.
>He grabs the bottle from you and puts his nose to it.
>He darts his head away quickly after getting a whiff of it.
>He looks back at you.
>You can only offer him a weak smile.
>He shrugs his shoulders and takes a gulp.
>He did not bother to hide his reaction like you did.
>His eyes bulge as he hacks and coughs.
>You can’t help but chuckle.
>You offer to take back the bottle.
>He grimaces as he puts it back in your hand.
>“Niutsik Piunngituk. Kiatsiuk.”
>No idea what that means.
>But you reckon he didn’t care for it.
>Though actually… drinking it had warmed you up a bit.
>You take another swig. You endure the burning liquid only to enjoy its warmth as it settled in your belly.
>He points at your boat and everything you packed.
>“Ilingak Ipvit?”
>You could only guess at what he was saying.
>You point at the boat, and then at yourself. Indicating that it belonged to you.
>He seems to understand.
>“Malik.” He says, waving his arm over his shoulder as he turned and began walking.
>You think he wanted to follow you.
>You sign as you hoist the rope over your shoulder and begin to pull.
>Luckily the ground is relatively flat and the soil is dry enough that your boat can slide easily enough on it.
>You see the two younger seals in the distance running back to the village.
>Looked a good half mile away.
>The larger male turns to you and gestures to the rum still in your hand
>“Ukik inneq imik.”
>You nod as you give him the bottle.
>He downs a larger gulp than he did the first time.
>You swear you see his head vibrate a little as it goes down his gullet.
>He lets out a loud “aahhh” as he passes the bottle back to you.
>You take a liberal swig yourself.
>Pulling a boat on dry land while drinking with an Indian.
>Things are going….not bad you guess.


>So you randomly walk into this village dragging an oversized canoe on dry land, you may very well be the first European these people have ever set eyes on.
>You are also slightly intoxicated.
>But so is your traveling companion.
>You tried to indicate to not drink so much.
>He didn’t get it and just kept chugging it down.
>Most people are standing outside their huts looking at you with curiosity and fear.
>You hear some of the men shouting something at your guide.
>But his words are so slurred that you can’t even make out the vowels he’s saying.
>Oh great, maybe they thought you bewitched him or something.
>Quickly you are both stopped by a few of the other males.
>There is a brief commotion from your guide and the others. 
>The words are flying by so fast you can’t make them out.
>Except the word “Nau” getting shouted by your guide over and over again.
>They move past him and move towards you.
>A few more surround and inspect your boat.
>You make a loud grunt and step closer to the grunt, you didn’t want them coming near your possessions.
>You hear that word again.
>“Qallunaat”
>You could tell they were referring to you.
>Must have been the word for foreigner, or maybe outsider.
>They suddenly point at you.
>Their faces looked like they weren’t exactly pleased to see you.
>“Ipvit! Ukak AngajukKâk!”
>It looks like whatever he was saying, you couldn’t take no for an answer.
>You look back at you boat of stuff you just hauled here.
> “Ansivogak.” it says off offhandedly as you reservedly follow him.
>It looks like they weren’t going to just take your belongings.
>You are led into a hut in the center of the village.
>You noticed that the village was built fairly close to the sea, but away from the muckiness of the delta.
>Their coastline, off in the distance looked like a more traditional beach than what you had dragged yourself through.
>Though it wasn’t sand, instead their beach was littered with rocks and boulders.
>You speculate that it was probably quite common to find fish that had been caught between the cracks of rocks when the tide receded.
>And source of food around here was probably needed to survive.
>As you walk in your notice that what the Captain said before about their houses was mostly true.
>Built from bones, wood, and a thick malleable soil called sod.
>But what he didn’t tell you is that their houses didn’t have a foundations like a normal cabin.
>They actually dug into the earth which would serve as their living space, with the building material just covering up the ‘hole’ in layman’s terms.
>You figured you would have to build your own hut in a similar fashion.
>Assuming these people would tolerate your presence. 
>Inside were two adult seals, a man and a women. Both very old.
>Their clothes while still very thick, were less padded than what you’ve seen by now.
>With no hoods over their heads, you could now see that these Anthros didn’t have external ears.
>If you ever looked closely, you probably could have spotted small earholes on the side of their head.
>But now it was apparent just how sleek they were.
>Like the animal itself, they were probably build for swimming.
>The elder male, looks at you curiously before turning to the seal who led you in here.
>“Kina Qallunaat?” he asks
>“Nanili Titjalukovuk” the other responds.
>He grunts out something unintelligible and waves him away.
>Before he turns to you, he slams his palm on the ground and turns to who you presume to be his wife.
>“Annak! Ipvit Ningiuk! Ajuak MamaittuKutik!
>You hear the wife mumble something nonchalantly before she begins to start a small fire over a clay pot.
>“Ipvit UKavigok?” He asks, turning towards you.
>You narrow your eyes at him.
>You…can’t even comprehend what he is asking.
>He sighs and slaps his knees in frustration.
>“AkuniKa…”
>This was going to be a bit of a undertaking.
>Well let’s try to get names in order.
>You raise your hands and lightly slap your own chest.
>“Anon” you say assertively.
>He looks at you strangely.
>You hit your chest a little harder.
>“Anon.” You try harder to emphasize the words.
>At last you see the sparkle in his eyes as he understands your intentions.
>He raises his own hands to his chest.
>“Yoskolo” He says
>He points to his wife, huddled over the fire.
>It was at this point that you noticed that their tails were rather sleek and narrow in proportion to the rest of their body.
>It wasn’t that long either. There wasn’t a hole in the back of the clothes like it was for modern anthro clothes.
>Makes sense, a hole in clothes would probably cause them to freeze to death.
>Their tails were slim enough that they could slip it in one of their pant legs without much discomfort.
>In fact you couldn’t really see the tail on the older female, just the outline beneath her clothes.
>“Ningiuk!” Yoskolo says to you as he gestures to his wife with a sneaky smirk on his face.
>She turns to him angrily.
>“Nipangerit! Ipvit Nutaunngituk Usuk!”
>She turns to you and wags her finger at you.
>“Asiaq!”
>She hounds you with the word again
>“Asiaq! Asiaq!”
>You hold your hands up in protest.
>“Asiaq, Asiaq…” you say to her.
>She grunts approvingly and returns back to the fire.
>You can see Yoskolo chuckling.
>You suppose he was playing a joke on his wife.
>In that moment you came up with an idea.
>You stand up to Yoskolo’s surprise.
>You hold up one finger to him.
>“One moment please.”
>Why did you bother?
>It’s not like he could understand you.
>But maybe he would soon.
>Before he can say anything you bolt out the hut.
>a few other adults who had been waiting outside the hut see you sprint out.
>They shout some protests but you ignore them.
>You run to your boat and quickly undo the strings that had held the fur protecting your goods together.
>More of the tribe huddle around you, curious as to what you are doing.
>Come on, where the hell is it?!
>It must be buried under the small barrels of salted pork.
>You grunt in annoyance as you stick your hands blindly to the bottom of the bag.
>Ah! There it is! you feel it.
>You pull out a small notebook and a pencil.
>You quickly rush back to the elder’s hut. The others keeping their distance as you pace back.
>As you walk back in, both the husband and wife are looking at you with a blank expression.
>Oh. She made tea.
>That was nice.
>You sit down across from Yoskolo.
>You have a sip of the tea.
>It had a bitter, foreign taste.
>But it warmed you up so you didn’t care.
>You open up the notebook and begin to make a sketch.
>He watches intensely.
>Luckily Officer school required you to at least be a competent illustrator.
>For drawing out landscapes and such.
>But here you were drawing a beaver.
>Yoskolo immediately recognizes the animal.
>He puts his index…finger? Fin?
>He puts the big one on the paper.
>“Kigiak!” He exclaimed.
>“Kigiak?” I say a bit more slowly to really taste the word.
>He nods his head “Â, Kigiak”
>Not even a day in and you learn your first, real word.
>and it meant….beaver.
>Whatever, it’s a start.
>Next to the beaver drawing, you try to draw a pelt stretch out on a rack.
>It wasn’t really a good illustration but he seemed to get the idea.
>You point at the drawing and then to yourself.
>“I have this.” You say. “I have…”
>You once again point to the picture.
>“this!”
>He repeats your actions, poking you in the shoulder, then to the drawing.
>“Yes! Yes! I have that!”
>He grabs your hand and you rise up with him.
>“Nauk! Nauk!” He says, pointing to the exit.
>You think he wanted you to show him.
>He grabs his cane as you wait for him to leave before you.
>You lead him back to your agrounded boat.
>You show him the partially unwrapped parcel and show him the beaver pelts.
>He seemed impressed you had such an large quantity of pelts.
>You quickly turn to a blank page of your notebook.
>You had to let him know what you wanted.
>You draw a small square and pointed to a nearby hut, indicating that’s what the square represented.
>You continue to draw other small squares. Mapping out the village according to your brief memory of the village.
>Yoskolo watches you curiously.
>You finally draw another square on the outskirts of the village and shade it in.
>You point to yourself.
>He seemed to nod and understand what you were asking.
>And so began a two hour process of trading between yourself and the village.
>It was an exhaustive procedure and you basically had to trade all of your pelts to get what you needed.
>You were hoping to at least keep a few…
>But in return you got permission from Yoskolo to build a hut on their territory near their village.
>You also got some of their clothing to keep you warm.
>Your soaked and muddy clothes weren’t going to do much to when the evening came.
>They couldn’t spare any of the material you could actually build your hut with.
>You’d be on your own in that regard
>But they gave you one of their tents as temporary shelter.
>You also agreed to contribute to hunting and scavenging when needed.
>When the trade was finally agreed upon, Yoskolo gestures for you to follow him back to his hut.
>You watch more seals grab the furs and take it back to their own homes.
>You were also joined by 5-6 of the other older members of the tribe.
>You would partake in dinner with Yoskolo and his friends to celebrate the productive trade.
>Dinner consisted mostly of what was some sort of cooked deer and raw fish.
>You remembered that these people couldn’t grow crops because of the weather.
>Which meant you probably wouldn’t eat a vegetable for the next dozen years.
>With that in mind, the meat was delicious.
>The raw fish probably wouldn’t settle well with your stomach, but you’d get used to it eventually.
>Naturally it was hard for you to explain where you had come from.
>You drew a picture of the Captain’s ship in your notebook and they all nodded in familiarity.
>Beyond that you couldn’t really explain to them what you were doing here.
>It seemed though that they accepted your bare bones answer of “big ship” for now.
>You would explain more as you picked up their language.
>You had already learned a few new words while dining.
>The notebook had come in handy.
>You’re lucky you brought more than one.
>After around an hour of eating and chatting, at least as much chatting as you could do. The sun was beginning to go down.
>As everyone begins to leave, you turn to Yoskolo and bow your head.
>“Nakummek” you say, meaning thank you.
>He smiles and waves you off.
>You head back to your boat.
>Where you see they have left your new clothes and the tent.
>With a heavy sigh, you wrap the rope around your knuckles and begin to drag it over to your new designated home.
>It was getting too dark to begin working on your new house.
>You’d worry about it tomorrow.
>Right you just wanted to get the tent up and fall asleep.
>And you wanted to set it up quickly so you were fumbling around in the dark while getting colder.
>It still takes you a while to set it up. Tying all the wood together to make it stable.
>Then throwing the animal hides over it.
>It mostly took so long because the damn thing was so big.
>By the time you finished, it was still well into the night.
>And getting colder by the minute.
>You quickly start a fire within the tent and take off your clothes.
>They were filthy now from the day’s activities.
>You quickly put on what the tribe had provided for you.
>It was then that you realized that you had nothing to sleep on with no blanket.
>You had traded all your furs away.
>With a sigh you turn away from the the fire. The flames heating up your back.
>You could sleep on the ground for awhile.
>But this couldn’t be the norm, not for very long.
>Winter would arrive soon and you’d freeze to death if you couldn’t get a more permanent shelter up.
>You let the cracklings of the fire act as lullaby, lulling you out of your worries and into a deep sleep.


>You stand in a room
>A featureless room.
>You’ve wiped away any trace of character or personality.
>There is no door in this room.
>There is no window or lamp.
>But the room is still bright with light.
>You are motionless, upright.
>Are you still in the academy? Waiting for inspection by your officer?
>No.
>You are in the thick of battle.
>Or at least a part of you is.
>Some fragment of you is there right now.
>For while you stand in this room you can hear the bullets whizzing past your skull
>You can feel them too. As they penetrate the air around you.
>A sound of carnage all around your personage in this room devoid of form.
>Does this unsettle you? Make you shudder or recoil back in shock?
>No. The sounds of war is the sound of a hundred thousand orchestras playing in perfect harmony.
>You are Nirvana in the midst of the sound.
>You look down.
>There is a bed.
>You see a child laying in it. Covered up to her neck by a thick wool blanket.
>She is a Canine Anthro, with large round ears and brown and black splotched fur that is thinning.
>You tilt your head curiously as she looks up at you with her brownish-red eyes.
>You barely hear her over your aura of bullets
>“Waar iz ma?” She says
>“Ek weet nie” you reply.
>“Kan jy haar vind vir my?” she whispers quietly, as if she was saying curses and not wanting to get caught..
>You shake your head as you reach over and tuck her under under the blanket.
>Your cacophony of fire and steel overwhelms your desire to pet her.
>She does not seem to notice the hellish commotion you’re generating.
>“Ek dink... sy is nie hier” you say softly.


>You wake up, opening your eyes slowly.
>Your body is stiff from sleeping on the ground all night.
>You smell the burned out embers of your fire.
>With a grunt you crawl up to your knees and rifle through your tools. Trying to find your shovel.
>Anything to keep your mind off that dream.
>You kinda wish you hadn’t shared that whole bottle of rum with that tribesman yesterday.
>But on the other hand it was unbecoming to drink alcohol in the morning because of something as flimsy as a nightmare.
>Even if it did hit closer than you’d like.
>Didn’t your pastor say that Idle hands were the devil’s workshop?
>Best to just dig right in.
>You wish you had brought a bigger shovel.
>All you had was a small hand shovel, the kind you needed to get on your hands and knees for.
>You decided you would dig the overall outline of the hut before you started to go deeper.
>It took a few hours but you had created what would be the base of your house.
>Which was just a large cross shape. Large enough for a bed, your food and supplies and a fire pit.
>You groan and wince from the pain in your back from being hunched over all morning.
>And you weren’t even close to being done.
>Still, at least you had a good view of the ocean.
>You could smell the salt in the air and taste it constantly on your lips.
>It was a sensation you had grown accustom to over your years in the army. Stationed at multiple ports.
>You had seen more of the world than most ever would.
>And here you were again, in another far away corner of the earth.
>Though this time you were completely away from civilization.
>For the most part, you were alone.
>After almost a decade of constant fighting and wars. It didn’t seem like a punishment to you.
>It seemed like a relief.
>To be away from people and to be left to your own thoughts for extended periods of time.
>You could step back and think of your life and how you had ended up the way you were.
>You take a deep breath. You guessed it was around Noon.
>Didn’t seem as cold as it did before.
>You estimated that it was at around 2-3 PM when the weather would be the warmest.
>Then it would steadily drop.
>And you’d also lose the sunlight you needed.
>You grimaced.
>You didn’t have much time to build this thing.
>With a rush of new motivation you dig into the soil.
>You remembered to actually save the grass and dirt you dug up.
>It was the sod that would help serve as the insulation so you didn’t freeze to death.
>You were wondering how deep you needed to dig.
>The leopard seals dug about six feet deep it seemed, and then with the wooden walls and roof, it accommodated greatly for their size.
>But they were also two feet taller than you.
>Fuck it you think. You wouldn’t mind having a bit more room.
>Even though it meant more digging for you.
>You were really starting to hate this little fucking shovel.
>Would you even be able to finish today?
>Probably not. It was already close to 3 PM and you barely made it two feet deep.
>You curse as you drop the shovel, wiping your brow.
>That was when you realized you had been working for nine hours with no food.
>You run into your tent and find one of the miniature barrels you came with.
>Inside was salted pork that had been pressed and soaked in brine.
>This stuff would last forever.
>With you knife you slice up the meat and skewered it.
>You bit into a rough hardtack as you started a fire and gently placed the meat to cook it.
>Damn it smelled good. You just wanted to eat it now.
>But getting sick from uncooked meat in the wilderness seemed like a bad idea.
>With a sigh you leave the tent. Taking another bite into the hardtack.
>Stuff was hard as cement and probably tasted worse.
>But you had been eating this stuff in the military for so long it barely even phased you.
>You look out at the see and ponder what else you needed to do.
>You needed to find wood.
>And maybe see if you could trade…something for clay pots for cooking and storage.
>The river was nearby so that was a source of water.
>You’d have to boil it beforehand, but this wasn’t exactly supposed to be comfortable living.
>You look at the pile of dirt you amassed and frown.
>Even when you had finished digging, that wouldn’t be enough dirt to insulate the entire hut.
>You’d just need to dig even more.
>Christ, you might as well tie a fucking rock to a stick. It’ll work better than this piece of shit.
>In the midst of your private grumblings. You can smell the meat from outside your tent.
>It smells cooked.
>Practically salivating you run and pick the skewer out of the fireplace. Not even caring if you singe your fingertips.
>With the last of the hardtack still in your mouth you bite off a chunk of meat.
>You suck in your lips briefly from how salty the meat is.
>You really wish you had some beer to go with it.
>You walk back outside to admire the view while you eat.
>Soon all this green would be nothing but a bitter white.
>Best to appreciate it while you still can.
>You squint your eyes as you see a small boat in the distance.
>It looked like a one person canoe.
>As the boat came closer to the shore, you noticed it was much larger than most canoes, it looked about the size of your row boat.
>Probably to accommodate for the leopard seal’s long body.
>As the seal climbs out, it takes with it a bundle of fish bound together by rope.
>You wondered what they made rope with here.
>But more importantly, you noticed that the Seal was female.
>Which was odd to you. Most of the females around the tribe were relegated to domestic duties.
>The males did all the hunting and fishing.
>Well you’d only been here for a day. Maybe it was slightly different than you imagined.
>She pulls her canoe out of the water.
>It was amazing how she managed to do that over the rocky beach without damaging the vessel itself.
>Once she reaches the grass, she flips the canoe upside to let the water drain and she lets it rest with the other boats parked in a similar fashion.
>The way she effortlessly flipped the coat only hinted at how physically strong these people were.
>Even if their sleeker frames didn’t clearly showcase their strength.
>Wait. How the hell did they get enough wood to make multiple boats?!
>Surely random pieces of wood floating in the sea couldn’t build those things?
>Questions for later you suppose.
>You had a lot of other things on your mind before you started worrying about crafting a boat.
>You sink your teeth into another piece of pork as the leopard seal notices you.
>She slowly begins to walk towards your tent.
>You watch her curiously as your chew.
>She towers over you.
>You head just reaches her chest.
>You have to turn your head up to speak with her.
>Her face is unlike the other seals.
>While the rest had a face that either showed bemusement or confusion, this one was simply stoic.
>Maybe it was the way her brow was always furrowed.
>She opens her mouth to speak and you can actually pick up a few words.
>[What is your name?] she asks
>You swallow your pork.
>[I am Anon, your name?]
>She huffs at you, not sounding too impressed.
>[Tapeesa] 
>You raise your brow at her, she sounded proud of her name.
>Or maybe it was just that she thought her name was better than yours.
>You look at the bundle of fish she’s still carrying.
>[I fire] you say awkwardly [you….cook?]
>It takes her a moment to figure out what you’re saying.
>She uses short simple words so you can better understand her.
>You can sense a mocking tone in her voice.
>[No. We eat fish raw]
>Ah, right. Well guess that’s that.
>She sizes you up, you probably didn’t seem like much compared to such a larger creature.
>[But am tired from MINNIGIAK(fishing?), SILAKKIJAK(?) your hut?]
>You struggle to understand what’s she saying.
>What did SilakKijack mean?
>She sighs and points to your tent.
>Oh! She wanted to rest in your hut after fishing!
>You frown
>[Won’t sex be not happy?]
>She gives you a puzzling look.
>Oh son of a bitch
>You struggle to think of the right word.
>[Won’t…man be not happy?]
>She rolls her eyes.
>[I am not married]
>Really? That was strange.
>She sounded older than the other women of the tribe, her voice was huskier.
>You shrug and walk inside the tent, Tapeesa follows you inside.
>You sit down and try to get the fire started again.
>You notice Tapeesa look carefully around the inside of your dwelling.
>[No bed?] she asks.
>You shake your head.
>[Came….last day, haven’t…haven’t]
>You can’t think of the word.
>You move your arms in a gathering motion to signify what you mean.
>She nods.
>[UNGIK(collect), you haven’t collected bed?]
>You nod, thankful that she just taught you a new word.
>This was a rather broken conversation, but it seemed to be going as best as it could.
>You notice her staring at you.
>With those large black eyes of hers.
>You stare back at her.
>[…I help you?] you begin-
>She reaches over and touches your beard.
>It was at this that you realized just how long her arms really were.
>“Hey.” you protest in English “What are you do-
>[How old are you?] she asks
>What?
>[Beard is sign of age. How old?]
>She still hasn’t stopped feeling your beard.
>You imagine it’s quite different from the whiskers they have.
>You don’t know yet how they count.
>You grab your knife and begin to make ticks in the dirt.
>She watches patiently as you make 29 lines.
>She smiles coyly at you.
>[You are INOSUTTUK(?) for beard]
>She holds out her hand for your knife.
>You slowly give it to her.
>She adds a few more lines.
>For a total of 32.
>Your hunch was right. She was older than most of the other women, who were in their early to mid 20’s it seemed.
>Still didn’t explain why she wasn’t married. Marriages were usually arranged between families when the bride and groom were still young children.
>She drops the knife and pulls out of of the fish from her bundle.
>[I eat here?] She asks, rather politely given how upfront her demeanor has been at this point.
>You nod as you pull another piece of salted pork to cook over the fire.
>You had been working all day, you needed more than one slap of pork and some biscuits to keep you full.
>Both of you are silent as she nibbles on her fish and you cook your meat.
>It wasn’t an awkward silence though.
>It felt more like basking in each others presence.
>You had thought before about how you needed to be way from people.
>This…was a decent compromise. 
>You look down at your fireplace.
>You were going to run out of what little wood the village gave you.
>You’d have to out looking for more if you wanted to stay warm and cook.
>You turn to Tapeesa, who is finishing off the last bits of her fish.
>She picked that thing completely clean.
>[Wood?] you ask.
>She pauses in between chewing and looks at you.
>[Need wood] you affirm.
>[Get wood from shore] she replies casually.
>You frown.
>You know that couldn’t possibly be enough for them
>[Need more wood] you say assertively.
>She sighs as she finishes her meal and actually puts the skeleton back in with the rest of her fish.
>Probably saving the bones for something else.
>Nothing could be wasted.
>[Use boat] she says [There is NAPATTULIK(forest?) on coast]
>You nod and thank her as she stands up.
>You were proud you built this tent so well that even she could stand up straight with no issue.
>[PITSIAK(?)] she says seriously [Journey not short. Watch for AGLOOLIK(?)]
>You scratch your beard.
>[What is Agloolik?] You ask
>She leaves your tent. You follow closely behind her.
>[Agloolik is of the Sea. She can cause your fall into water]
>You nod, must have been one of their deities. Probably one that was supposed to lead men to drown or something or other.
>Basically the ocean was dangerous and to be careful.
>[Thank you] You say, trying to be polite [I enjoyed your…]
>[Your…]
>Oh dammit, what the hell was the word!?
>It was on the tip of your tongue. You heard it repeated so many damn times the other evening.
>[Company! I enjoyed your company.] You say, exasperated.
>She seems amused by your attempts at her language.
>As she turns around, she seems to respond to your compliment, but stops.
>She looks into your eyes, and you can see her slightly lose her composure.
>[Goodbye Anon] she says and quickly leaves.
>You scratch your head.
>Somehow you felt that buried deep within your soul that you knew what she saw.
>But mostly you just felt puzzled.
>But that awkward and rushed goodbye soon became replaced with your current problems.
>You were low on wood and you weren’t even finished digging.
>You may have escaped the death penalty back in London, but this wasn’t much better.
>You couldn’t expect the villagers to take pity on you if you screwed up. It could endanger their own families if they just gave you resources like a charity.
>You had to adapt, or you would die.
>And it wouldn’t be a very pleasant death either.
>You bite your lip as you watch the Sun set.
>You guessed it was just about seven in the evening right now.
>The days were getting shorter.
>You had just got here, and you were already running out of time. 


>“God presides in the great assembly; he renders judgment among the “gods”
>You pant.
>“How long will you defend the unjust and show partiality to the wicked?”
>You heave your chest and tighten your grip on your load.
>“Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed.”
>Damn this fucking Caribou was heavy!
>You had decided to leave early this morning and follow the river.
>Looking for something to hunt.
>You had found a juvenile male, sitting there all by his lonesome.
>You had brought your rifle along and made a clean kill
>Despite being young, he easily weight 150 pounds or more.
>And you were carrying him on your shoulders.
>And it wasn’t exactly a short jog back to the village
>You were saying the Psalms you learned in Sunday school as a boy to distract you.
>“Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked.”
>That one is….Psalm 82 you think.
>You’d repeat some Blake if you could remember any of the poems.
>You wish you had brought some books other than your Bible.
>But reading material wasn’t exactly on your mind when preparing for the harsh wilderness.
>God, you feel your shoulders about to collapse.
>You see the smoke of the village in the distance.
>So close.
>“ The ‘gods’ know nothing, they understand nothing. They walk about in darkness; all the foundations of the earth are shaken.”
>You wonder how this would sound in Inuit.
>With how wordy their language is, one line from Romans would probably look like a paragraph.
>You finally reach the foot of the village and with a resounding thump you drop the carcass and fall to your knees.
>Your shoulders feel like they’re on fire right now.
>One of the leopard seals walks over to you with a concerned look on his face.
>[Are you well, Anon?]
>You nod your head.
>[Very tired. Need wood. Will trade…]
>You couldn’t remember the word for caribou right now so you just slap the dead animal with your hand.
>The seal’s eyes go wide.
>[You trade whole body for wood?!]
>You nod wordlessly, still trying to catch your breath.
>You had all the food you needed for now.
>You just needed wood.
>You see Yoskolo hobble over to you, hearing all the commotion.
>[Why is Anon on the dirt?] He asks
>[Wants only wood for whole TUTTUK]
>Oh yeah, that’s what the word for Caribou was.
>[Anon, wood not enough for Caribou. Bad trade for you!] Yoskolo says
>Ah.
>He was afraid you would get ripped off.
>You shake your head.
>[Don’t want Caribou] You respond, still panting [want wood]
>Yoskolo scratches his chin.
>You try to stand up but stagger slightly.
>The old seal catches you easily.
>It’s surreal how tall they were.
>[Carried Caribou on my….]
>You didn’t know what shoulder was.
>He seems to understand your intention and wraps an arm around you for support.
>He turns to the other seal.
>[Does Cupun have much wood?]
>The seal nods 
>[Do you want long wood for hut? Or short wood for fire?] he asks you.
>[Both] you say
>You felt like you were going to faint.
>Yoskolo steadies you as he points to the dead animal
>[Will you take this to Cupun and ask him to get his wood for Anon?]
>The other seal nods and scoops up the Caribou in his arms with little strain.
>Reminding you just how strong these anthros were.
>Yoskolo ushers you into his hut, where his wife begins to make that strange tasting tea.
>[We thank you for the hunt!] Yoskolo says enthusiastically.
>You can only mutter out a small, guttural response before you take the tea to your lips.
>[Cupun’s wife PITSALIK(?). Caribou will help much]
>You take a deep breath after practically draining the entire cup of tea.
>Your mouth is burning but your gut feels nice and warm.
>[PITSALIK?] You ask, not knowing the word.
>[Ah, she is…with child] Yoskolo explains.
>You nod quietly as his wife Asiaq pours you another cup of tea.
>[Gathering Wood, during snow, will be difficult]
>You only make a small grunt as you drink the tea, a bit slower this time.
>[Qailertetang will bring great winds and storms, only go out for hunt]
>Qailertetang? What a strange name.
>Must have been another one of their Gods.
>You frown at this, you hadn’t considered that.
>Now you felt you had even less time than before.
>You would have to stock up on wood to have enough for fires in the winter.
>You explain your worry to Yoskolo and he chuckles in response.
>[No wood burned in winter]
>Oh?
>[Use UTSUK(?)]
>Your confusion is apparent on your face.
>Yoskolo smiles and smacks his own chest.
>He uses…himself for fuel?
>He shakes his head.
>[Us. But of the sea.]
>Of the sea?…
>Wait a minute.
>[Animal!] You exclaim [Animal You!]
>He nods as you brain processed this information.
>They hunted feral seals.
>In pretty much every Anthro society it was extremely taboo to hunt and eat the feral equivalent of their species.
>It was seen as just one degree removed from cannibalism.
>But to be picky out here was to die.
>After a few minutes of conversation, you figured out that Utsuk meant seal fat.
>You also learned that the skin of a seal, when ripped into strips served as good rope.
>Well now you know what Tapeesa was using to bind her fish before.
>Asiaq searches through a wooden chest and pulls out a curious object.
>It looked like a large elongated, curved bowl.
>They called it a Qulliq.
>It was basically a lamp and a heat source.
>You would stuff the bowl with seal blubber and only seal blubber
>Then you would use a specific grass to make a wicker.
>If done properly, it could be lit for days before it was burned out.
>You were grateful they had told you this.
>Otherwise you might have perished in a winter storm searching for firewood. 
>She places the lamp in your hands, surprising you.
>You quickly shake your head and attempt to give it back.
>[I can’t take this] you protest.
>Asiaq and Yoskolo smile.
>[It is a gift from us to you]
>You purse your lips.
>You will have to return the favor to them someday.
>Maybe with some meat from a hunt or-
>OH!
>You had just remembered!
>[I hear there is forest nearby?] You inquire.
>Yoskolo gives you a puzzled look.
>[Yes. Who told you?]
>[Tapeesa] you reply.
>He nods his head.
>[Ah. She is outsider, like you.]
>You blink.
>[But she is…like you.] you say
>He waves his hand away.
>[Came from different tribe, much farther away. Marriage planned with husband when still child]
>You were confused, Tapeesa had told you she wasn’t married.
>[Husband died before marriage could be whole. Tribe gave her different husband, she refused and was cast out.]
>You nod slowly.
>[She came to us many years ago. Fishes and makes clothes for us. Is left alone]
>Before you can inquire further, you become aware of what little sunlight you have left.
>You quickly excuse yourself and thank the older couple for their hospitality.

>Before you can even continue your work on the hut you have to spend just over an hour hauling up wood near your tent by the armful.
>The firewood should last you awhile until you find some seal.
>And the longer pieces would be put to use when you actually had the damn thing dug out.
>You curse to yourself, you had spent the better part of the day hunting and lifting.
>Necessary sure. But it didn’t make you less anxious about your lack of progress on the house.
>With everything said and done, you probably have around two hours left of sunlight, maybe three.
>As you press the shovel blade into the soil you promised yourself you were going to do nothing but this tomorrow.
>You wouldn’t even eat anything outside of hardtack if it took too long.
>Your whole body is screaming from the fatigue of the day.
>But you don’t care.
>You had been trained to ignore it.
>Then it had been further smacked into your head by all the times you had felt a bullet singe the hairs on your head. 
>In those moments you had just want to jump down and hide.
>But if you had done that you would have died.
>It was the same deal here.
>If you stopped for a moment, if you faltered for a moment you would die.
>Only difference is it wouldn’t be a quick death.
>You pant and heave as you dig more and more rapidly.
>Your chest is feeling tight.
>Your esophagus feels like it’s burning.
>You’re light headed and dizzy.
>You drop your shovel and frantically crawl out of the hole.
>You vomit on the grass.
>You’ve barely eaten anything today so it was mostly just dry heaving.
>Which was a far more unpleasant feeling.
>Like your body wanted to expel the poison, but the paradox was that there was no poison.
>You had just panicked and exerted yourself too much too fast.
>After a short while you can feel your chest stop twitching and thumping as you fall back away from your bile.
>The cool grass on your skin feels nice.
>But your legs feel completely useless, all you can do is rock your knees back and forth helplessly.
>You sigh as you cover your face with your hands.
>This was the last thing you needed.
>You just had to calm down and think about this rationally.
>You had actually made good progress over the last few days.
>You had a good amount of wood, food wasn’t an issue.
>All you needed to do was dig and build.
>No reason to go out and hunt or find wood right now.
>You could just spend the next two of three days completely isolated and focused on your house.
>[Anon?]
>You peak out from your fingers.
>It was Tapeesa standing over you.
>She seriously looked intimidating from this angle.
>Like some kind of Darwinian super predator.
>[Are you ill?] she asks as she squats down.
>You shake your head weakly
>[worked….too…hard]
>You were having trouble find the right words.
>You feel her hands on your hands as she forcefully moves them away from your face.
>Her muzzle is only a few inches away from your nose.
>[Your face is like that of snow.]
>She pulls you up to her and rests your head on her knee.
>[I’m fine] you say, somewhat annoyed that you were even seen in this state.
>[I just need rest] You protest.
>She nods at you.
>[Yes. You shall rest in my hut.]
>What? Absolutely not!
>[My tent is there. I’m fine]
>She furrows her brow at you.
>[You have no bed or pelt for sleeping! I stay in your tent, now you stay in my hut.]
>Evidently she still sees in your face that you are resisting the idea.
>She sighs angrily.
>[You either walk with me or I carry you]
>You swallow loudly.
>[Fine] you huff, help me up.
>She gives that coy smile as she puts her arm around your waist and hoists you up.
>Woah! Your body really must have given out.
>Your legs looked more akin to puppets on a string.
>You practically fell against Tapeesa as she supports you.
>Could you even have made it to your tent without crawling?
>You feel Tapeesa’s grip grow firmer on you as you lean into her chest.
>[Maybe I should carry you anyway] she says with a chuckle.
>[I can walk] you snap back grouchily, your pride wounded.
>You dig your fingers into her side as you steady yourself.
>You hope none of the men saw you like this.
>Tapeesa’s hut was just down from the Village, closer to the shoreline.
>Her strong arms keeps you balance.
>But you feel like you’re dragging your feet when she places you in her bed.
>Which was just a thick amalgamation of animal pelts.
>[I will make tea] She says as she lights up the qulliq and places a small clay pot over the flames.
>[You take off your clothes]
>You’re taken aback.
>[W-what?]
>She rolls her eyes and points at your coat.
>[MIGIAK(?)] she says.
>What does that-
>You look down.
>Oh.
>It was a small string of vomit that you must have hacked up over your clothes.
>[I will wash those for you]
>You hesitantly start to take off your thick animal hides.
>[You don’t have to help me.] You say weakly.
>[You hunt] she says calmly [You help village, not hold it back. Worthy of help]
>You shrug as you peel off your clothes and shiver as the chilly air touches your bare skin.
>You turn suddenly towards Tapeesa as you hear a sharp breath from her.
>She is staring at you with wide black eyes.
>[Your body…] she says sadly.
>You looks down.
>Oh yeah, all the scars…
>You had never paid them much mind.
>[I am fine] you say as you wrap the fur blanket around yourself.
>Tapeesa eyes your torso curiously and slowly moves towards you.
>You watch as she traces the scar tissue on your chest.
>[How?] she asks
>You shrug, [fighting]
>You couldn’t really explain it all with your limited knowledge of the language.
>She moves her fingers over to a cluster of small, coin shaped marks near your abdomen.
>You got those in China by a Qing soldier with an old shotgun.
>[Are you a warrior?] Tapeesa asks.
>[I was] you correct her [I’m not anymore]
>She nods as she brings her focus to a vertical slash across your belly button.
>At wound you received in Sudan at Omdurman.
>[Is it really that interesting?] you ask awkwardly.
>She retracts her hands and goes back to making the tea.
>[Older men show signs of whale hunts.]
>[But you. Have more than any I’ve seen.]
>She carefully removes the boiling pot from the qulliq and pours it into a clay cup.
>You watch her mixed grounded up herbs into the cup and stir it with her index fin. Not wincing once as the hot water scalds the tip of her finger.
>[Lay back] she says [I will give you drink]
>[I can do it myself] you protest.
>Soon you find her muzzle right in your face.
>[Please. You are weak. I will give you drink] she reaffirms sternly.
>You grumble quietly as you lean back in the bed of furs.
>She gently places her hand on the back of your head and holds you up.
>You wince as she slowly pours the tea passed your lips.
>It wasn’t the same tea that Asiaq made, this one was very bitter.
>[Will help you get strength back] she says.
>Despite the taste, you try your best to gulp down as much of the liquid as possible.
>You cough slightly as she pulls the cup away from you and presses her hand against your cheek, feeling your temperature.
>She looks down at your damaged body, your head still in her arm.
>[You look like you did battle with Amaroq]
>You frown, puzzled by her statement.
>[Who is Amaroq?] you ask.
>She takes her free arm and once again traces your scars, this time emphasizing the difference in texture between the bumpy scar tissue and the unblemished skin.
>It is hard not to squirm against her touch.
>[Amaroq is the great savage wolf. He is the eater of men]
>She places her hand flatly on your chest.
>[One would think your body did battle with Amaroq and survived.]
>You yawn, there must have been something in that tea that made you sleepy.
>She gently lower your head into the soft pelts.
>[Will you tell me, how you got them?] she asks.
>You look deep into her large black eyes.
>Despite her gruffness, there wasn’t the slightest hint of antagonism in them.
>Something you weren’t used to around others.
>You shake your head.
>[No. I do not want to talk about it]
>She looks at you one last time with her obsidian eyes.
>[Very well] she says.
>[Sleep now, I will have your clothes cleaned]
>You roll over to your side as you pull the blanket up to your neck.
>You take a deep breath as your body sinks into the furs.


>“My Pappa is groot en sterk soos jy” the little canine barks out, her round, brown ears at attention.
>“Ja?” you reply, humoring her.
>“Hy gaan my hier uit te kry” she says with the optimism only a child could have.
>You hear the distant rumbling thunder of heaven beyond the room.
>As if a storm of hail was coming your way.
>And each individual hailstone was the size of a great meteor.
>“Ek sal hom laat weet hoe mooi jy vir my gewees” She says, reaching her paw out and placing it over your hand.
>Your stunned at how tiny it is.
>You can feel the room vibrate and shake as the infinite tumbling roar speeds closer to you.
>She doesn’t seem to notice anything.
>“Wanneer het jy sien jou pa verlede?” you ask.
>She pauses, thinking on this.
>“sowat twee jaar gelede dink ek” she finally replies.
>You nod slowly as you look out towards the window.
>You don’t question how a window suddenly got there.
>In the gray sky you can see the acrylic black paint that forms a cloud edging closer to you.
>“Onthou jy hoe hy lyk?” You continue.
>She nods her head happily.
>“Ja! Hy is 'n mens soos jy! Met bruin hare en 'n dik blonde snor!”
>You grunt affirmatively as you let go of her paw and walk towards the window.
>It has been completely blocked out by the sludge of the black cloud.
>“Hy gaan my red uit hierdie plek” she keeps saying.
>You hear the growl of God in the sky and stretch your hands above your head.
>“En jy sal vir ons besoek op ons plaas”
>You’re not really paying attention to what she says anymore.
>You feel your fingers tingle upon the sounds of your glorious purgatory.
>You close your eyes and await to bathe in the artillery.


>You awake with a small gasp, your sense of irrational panic only heightened by the feeling of something wrapped around you.
>You struggle for a moment before you realize it’s just Tapeesa’s arms.
>Seems she joined you under the blanket after you had fallen asleep.
>You would normally consider such a situation scandalous and unchristian-like. But this was the only bed in the hut. 
>And in this environment, staying warm was more important than your British sense of decency.
>It was only then, when her body wasn’t obscured by pelts, that your realized how muscular her arms were.
>Not bulky, in fact they were very lean, but they felt like a vice grip around your chest.
>You feel her shuffle behind you.
>[You moved in sleep] she says groggily, that husky voice of hers bringing you back to a more relaxed state.
>[Sorry] you reply, not bothering to move out of her platonic embrace.
>[You were dreaming] she says in an almost accusatory tone.
>[I was] you admit.
>[Dreams say what is to come.]
>[Not this one.]
>You both say nothing for a while. You could feel Tapeesa’s grip on you loosen.
>[It will be daylight soon] you let out a sigh. [I must leave]
>You feel her whiskers brush against the back of your head as she nods slowly.
>[Your clothes are clean, They are near the qulliq.]
>You peel the fur off of your bare skin, Tapeesa releases you with no resistance.
>You shiver at the morning cold.
>It was stronger than any cup of coffee you ever had. Even Turkish coffee.
>You can feel Tapeesa stare as you stand up and begin the cumbersome process of putting on each separate layer of fur clothes.
>Privacy in these huts was a luxury no one had.
>[I was told you are not of this tribe] you say casually.
>She rises up, tossing the blanket aside and begins to start a fire over the qulliq.
>You then realize that these anthros have a very distinct difference between their feral counterparts.
>There was hardly any fat on her.
>It was mostly just…lean muscle.
>She looked like an athlete in the same vein as a swimmer or a runner.
>Her narrow tail sweeps the ground side to side as she lights the fire.
>[That is true] she answers stoically.
>[Why?] You had already been partly given the story already, you just wanted to hear it from her.
>She looks up at you as the wicks of the qulliq catch aflame.
>[You should tell me about your scars first.]
>Ah, you see.
>This was bait.
>But you refused her offer of playing this game.
>[No, thank you] You say politely.
>For a moment she seems taken aback at your refusal to engage her questions.
>But she merely shrugs as she takes a piece of dried seal meat and places it over the qulliq.
>So strange to watch a Leopard seal anthro eat another seal.
>It was a feral sure….but still.
>Finally with a bit of a struggle you throw on the last layer of furs.
>[I will find a way to return your kindness] you affirm to her.
>She nods, too focused on cooking the meat to look up at you.
>[Don’t overwork yourself, Anon.]
>It was odd hearing your very English name said in such a foreign accent.
>But her rough, yet feminine voice made it soothing to your ears…somehow.
>Her accent, her hospitality, the comforts of waking up to those soft pelts, it almost made you forget about your dreams. Pushing them in the back of your mind where they could comfortably dwell with little issue.
>With one final ‘thank you’ you head out, to start the day anew.


>The singular sound of gunfire echoes over the sea as you wave away the smoke and set the gun back down in the boat.
>You had killed your first seal.
>You rowed over to it as fast as you could. Paranoid that you would lose sight of the corpse floating on top of the calm water.
>You pick the dead animal up by the neck and drop it in the boat, a small trickle of blood staining the interior of your boat.
>You sigh as you hoist up your oars and begin to row to your destination.
>You realized pretty quickly that this small rowboat was not conducive to this sort of world.
>The Siglitun tribe used small, lightweight canoes.
>And you were pretty envious of their paddles made from a less denser wood.
>While rowing this stupid fucking boat was an exhaustive process in of itself.
>You’d have to figure out how to make your own.
>Or more likely you’d just trade a ludicrous amount of resources to have one built for you.
>Though admittingly, this wide rowboat would serve a good purpose today.
>hauling a large amount of wood.
>You let out a sigh of relief as you spot those woods Tapeesa had told you about.
>You jump out of the boat, ankle deep in the water on the shoreline as you tug it towards dryer land.
>A good portion of these trees were fairly skinny, and most of them were only around 15-20 feet tall.
>More than manageable enough for you.
>You grab your axe, pick out a random tree and begin chopping away. 
>You let your brain go numb as you focus completely on the physical task before you.
>At best you would only chop down only a few trees. You didn’t need much. 
>You were almost done with your hut. You had finished digging the foundation a few days ago.
>Took you awhile to stake the wood you had traded for into the ground to serve as walls. Then tie it up for rope you had to barter for again.
>You couldn’t wait until you were more self reliant.
>You were tired of having to go on a hunt just to trade the whole carcass for things as minor as rope, wood or seal fat.
>After the hut was finished, this would get easier.
>You back off a few paces as the tree tumbles over.
>You needed to hack this thing’s branches off, then chop up the rest of the tree.
>You really wished you had brought a bone saw.
>This whole process was going to take you all day.
>It was why you had made yourself get up when it was still dark.
>You would need plenty of daylight.
>You feel a deep sense of catharsis as your axe digs deeper into the wood. Becoming fully realized when it severs.
>You weren’t pacing yourself, you swung into the tree as hard as you could.
>For in these small woods, you were as isolated as you ever would be. Away from any singular person or even animal.
>It was here you could let yourself go.
>You feel the wood splinter and crack beneath your axe as you grit your teeth and swing into it again.
>You dug yourself deeper into this mental state. Letting your mind play back difficult memories to feed into your swings.
>The exhilaration and pure, intoxicating, blissful rage you felt in Sudan as you fired into the armies of the Mohammedans and rushed into their flanks.
>The frantic, tragic cruelty as comrades died all around you when fighting the Boxers in an open field
>The deep sense of disgust you felt during the siege of Peking.
>Then finally the nihilistic combination of hopelessness and hatred in South Africa boils over to a singular, poignant pistol shot ringing inside your skull.
>You let out a wild roar as you slam the axe into the tree, severing it.
>You fall and land on your back from the exertion and force. Shocked from your own loss of control.
>You couldn’t stop it.
>You had irresponsibly let loose your emotions for a cheap sense of catharsis.
>And now you had to own up to it.
>You roll to your side and cover your face, letting out a deep sob as tears stain your beard.
>“I’m sorry” you mumble out in between sharp gasps of air.
>Your knees rise up into your chest.
>“Oh God, I’m so sorry, Lizzie.”
>The image of a little canine girl with brown and black fur flashes repeatedly to further imprint her tiny figure into your brain.
>You roll back onto your back and spread your arms and legs apart.
>The woods are reverberated by the sound of your harsh scream.
>Your panting hard, your chest is heaving rapidly and your breathing is short and spastic.
>Your whole body felt like lead, awashed in your emotional outburst.
>You slowly sit up, your head feels empty.
>Not light-headed, but empty.
>You wipe away your wet cheeks as you pick up your axe once more.
>It was still morning, and you had plenty of work to do.
>This time you focused on nothing but the work in front of you.
>Your mind never wandered again. 

>Normally you’d say you were getting sick of eating hardtack and salted pork.
>But after a full day of chopping down trees, anything, even biscuits as hard as rocks tasted good.
>You lean against the boat as you finish off the last of your dinner that you had brought with you.
>You had managed to pile up all the wood in the boat.
>It would be a major pain to row this thing with so much extra weight packed on.
>But at the very least it wouldn’t sink.
>You quickly get up and with a great struggle you push the boat towards the shoreline.
>The sun was about to set and you didn’t want to wander the ocean in perpetual darkness.
>You only realize the direness of that scenario when you realized you had no light source.
>Motivated more by terror than anything else, you make a loud grunt and with one final push got the boat into the water.
>You quickly jump in and start rowing away from the shore.
>You could imagine yourself getting lost in the darkness and inadvertently rowing away from the shoreline and into the sea.
>You curse as the sun begins to disappear beyond the horizon. You had moved too slow today.
>You’d have to just keep an eye on the shadows of the shoreline and not lose your sense of direction.
>You keep rowing. Your back muscles aching from all the strain you put them under.
>You swore all you did all day was just wear your body.
>War wasn’t this damn strenuous.
>But you keep on rowing.
>And rowing
>And rowing
>And rowing.
>And suddenly you let go of the oars as you look up at the sky, eyes wide.
>Green flickering waves of flame dance across the night sky.
>The ocean below you is reflected in bright green.
>Was this…
>Was this the fabled Northern Lights?
>In that moment, you, a modern man of the rational age, believed wholeheartedly in magic and superstition.
>You reach your hand up, thinking that maybe you could touch it, to no avail.
>You wondered if this was some fragment of the Kingdom of Heaven. Some small piece of eternity that broke off and landed here.
>What else could it be?
>You briefly considered praying to God, but figured he was already close enough to hear your every thought as if you were screaming them atop a mountain.
>You lay down in the boat. Appreciating the privilege of basking in this wonder all to yourself.
>No one to ruin your tranquility with their inane babble.
>That’s all people seemed to be to you often.
>Inane.
>You were alone. But you were never lonely.
>Maybe the near decade of wars had burned you out on people.
>But you never loved solitude more than now.
>For the first time since you had gotten here, you had felt something akin to happiness.
>Maybe 12 years here wasn’t so bad.
>Maybe the truly hard part would be leaving after it was all over.
>Back to civilization.
>You sit back up and grab the oars.
>With the Northern lights you could see the shoreline clearly.
>Almost like it was a path of heavenly fire, guiding your way home.

>Much to your surprise you see the entire village bustling with activity when you row onto shore, despite it being the evening.
>Well maybe it wasn’t so surprising, what with the fireworks in the sky.
>Already beyond exhausted, you struggle to get the boat ashore.
>You weren’t even going to bother unloading the damn wood.
>Just get it to the tent you don’t care-
>[Need help?]
>You turn to the speaker.
>It’s Tapeesa.
>Oh yeah, she lived closer to the shore than the rest of the village.
>You shake your head.
>[No. You’ve been far too kind to me]
>You swear she rolls her eyes and huffs as she walks towards you.
>[boat would be much lighter if you take wood out] she says with a smug grin.
>Now it was your turn to roll your eyes.
>[Take too long to unload, just want it at tent]
>She puts her hand on your chest, stopping you in your tracks.
>[You are impatient and look tired. Bad mixture]
>She reaches over and scoops up a large pile of wood in her arms.
>You follow suit, though you can’t take nearly as much as she can.
>She was naturally stronger than you, and you felt like you could barely walk from fatigue.
>Hell it was a struggle to even keep up with her to your tent.
>[I see Atsanik led you back.] She says, pointing up in the sky.
>You nod.
>[Is that what you call it? Atsanik]
>She drops the logs besides your tent. You follow suit.
>[Yes. Atsanik led you out of night, means that the ancestors blessed you.]
>You frown as you walk back to the boat. Confused.
>[Atsanik is our ancestors and friends who have left us. They dance in the sky.]
>With a grunt you pick up more wood.
>[My husband is among them] she says rather plainly as she hauls more under her arms.
>[You were married before?] you ask, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from her.
>Tapeesa shakes her head as she makes her way to your tent.
>[Union never complete. But was decided when we were born.]
>The rest of the walk is quiet until you both dump the wood onto the pile and head back for another trip.
>[How did he die?] You finally ask
>There is no sign of discomfort on her face, nor is there any semblance of sorrow in her voice.
>[Whale hunt. He was knocked into the water and the beast’s tail came over him.]
>You realized you had still underestimated her strength when you saw that it had only taken the two of you three trips to carry the lumber.
>[Was set up for another marriage. But none of them were worthy. I did not accept their unions. Village forced me out. Came here.]
>You look up towards the wave of green in the sky, reflecting on her words.
>Having her fiance die then thrown out of her home in quick succession must have been traumatizing.
>Yet she stated it without an iota of feeling in her voice, in that same neutral, husky tone she always used.
>[Do you miss him?] You ask.
>The question seems to throw her off guard as she looks back at you curiously.
>[Sometimes. But I do not dwell on it. I am content with what there is now.]
>With short, shallow breaths, you drop the rest of the wood beside your tent.
>You would deal with it tomorrow.
>She once again gestures to the show of lights before the two of you.
>[And he is happy, dancing among the stars. There is no reason to be sad.]
>You nod as you sit at the foot of your tent, bringing your knees up to your chest.
>She sits down besides you as well.
>Both of you taking in this wonder of the world.
>You preferred solitude.
>But this…wasn’t so bad.
>[A spear.] You say frankly
>[Hmmm?] Tapeesa responds, looking confused.
>You gesture to your left shoulder, where behind all the layers of pelts, lay a darkened scar.
>[A spear hit me here. Was very…wounded, had to be pulled away from fighting.]
>You see her eyes widen at the revelation of what you were telling her.
>You didn’t comprehend just how curious she was before.
>She quickly scoots closer to her, her large frame overshadowing your own.
>She makes a light graze across your belly, indicating the scar you had there.
>[What about this one?]
>You blink. There was a childlike wonder in her questions.
>And after she had opened up about her past, it seemed shameful to no at least return the gesture.
>[A very large knife] you answered. In reality it had been a saber, but these people didn’t even have a word for sword.
>Tapeesa nods.
>[Did you kill the man who did it?]
>[Yes] you answer, not even blinking.
>Tapeesa then traces her hand down to your lower abdomen, pressing against it slightly.
>[And this one?] She was like a child with an endless stream of questions.
>But you were willing to humor her.
>[Umm….] You stutter. Trying to find a way to describe a gun.
>You gesture your arms as if you were holding a rifle and she quickly catches on.
>[You were struck with that loud branch?] She asks.
>[Yes. But the stone came apart, and hit me in many places.]
>Tapeesa looked almost motherly as she poked and prodded your body. Trying to remember where all the scars were underneath your clothing.
>[Do any still hurt?] she asks.
>[No.]
>She uses your shoulder for leverage as she stands up.
>[You have fought Amaroq many times and have always survived.]
>[This shows you are a great warrior.]
>You wave away her compliment.
>[I did not fight a beast, just men.]
>She frowns as she bends down behind you.
>You are suddenly aware of her endowed chest pressing against your back.
>[Amaroq is more than a beast] She explains [He is force itself.]
>Your mind becomes dull at her words.
>It reminded you of the sort of praise you’d hear back in the army.
>But the truth was, that who you were, and what you had done, was nothing to be admired.
>You looked at your past in the Sudan and in China and were never personally disgusted with your conduct.
>But you would never delude yourself. What you engaged in was a vicious, ugly business.
>[Don’t…] You began, standing up to face Tapeesa.
>You body was pressed against hers, your face inches away from her own.
>She was a beautiful creature, but nothing about this was erotic to you.
>You weren’t trying to seduce her.
>You were trying to warn her.
>[Don’t look at these..marks as good or worthy.]
>She tilts her head and frowns at you.
>You shivered inside when you saw the green northern lights reflected in her large black eyes.
>You resist the urge to fall for her right then and there.
>[There are few things I’ve done, Tapeesa, that I could consider good.]
>In fact there was only one singular thing you felt you had done in your whole life that was truly moral and righteous.
>And it had costed you everything.


>You run over to the dead caribou, your boots making a noticeable crunching sound as they pressed into the snow.
>After a few short weeks, winter had finally arrived.
>And better yet, you had finished you hut right when the first snows had fallen.
>At first there was only a thin layer, more akin to a morning frost then a bitter winter.
>But then the winds had kicked up something so fierce it felt like you were being whipped in the face.
>Sure there was snow, but the heavier snowfall wouldn’t be coming just yet.
>The wind was far more problematic.
>Even with the layer after layer of furred pelts you wore the wind still made your bones feel like they were frozen.
>You knew for certain you wouldn’t have lasted a night in that tent.
>[HERE!] You shout back behind you [IT IS DEAD!]
>A large anthro seal, named Toklo comes into view.
>You had both been tracking the caribou for some time before you shot it down with a bow.
>You had quickly stopped using your rifle. You only had so much ammo and you didn’t want to waste it hunting.
>You were still clumsy with a bow however. The shot you made wasn’t a clean kill and you had to follow the wounded beast another mile before it died from exhaustion.
>Still, at least you didn’t have to carry it.
>You had made a deal with Toklo: you track it and kill it, and he would carry it.
>He let out a loud grunt as he lunged the carcass over his shoulder.
>It would be a burden for him, but the strength of these seals seemed to be on par with only the larger anthros you had encountered.
>You grab a handful of snow and pack it in your hands, using it to blot out some of the blood that dripped on Toklo’s coat.
>He gives you a warm smile as thanks as you both begin to head back to the village.

>[WAIT, ANON!] You hear Toklo yell behind you.
>You sigh and turn back to him. Thinking he was complaining about fatigue.
>But the village was in sight, couldn’t he just-
>[LOOK AT THIS!] He says, worry in his voice as he lets the Caribou fall gracelessly off his shoulders as he takes a knee.
>His voice sounded worried.
>These people practically lived on a glacier their whole lives, and they never sounded worried.
>You run towards him, your feet kicking up plumes of snow.
>[What?]
>He doesn’t say anything, just points to the ground in front of him.
>What? what is it?
>You don’t see anything, just snow-
>Jesus Christ….
>Paw prints.
>Not hooves from a caribou, but actual paw prints.
>And big ones too, like that of an anthro canine.
>You turn to him.
>[Are they…]You begin.
>He shakes his head.
>[No. They are wild. Not like us.]
>That should have been comforting, knowing that there wasn’t a potentially hostile tribe.
>But knowing there were wild wolves around here that got that fucking big did not put you at ease.
>And there was one here recently enough to leave tracks.
>While you two were hauling a bleeding animal carcass.
>[We need to leave. Now] you say.
>He nods and quickly hoists up the carcass.
>No longer walking, you both run to the village.

>While Toklo is butchering the Caribou outside, you speak to Yoskolo in his hut.
>Over the past few weeks, you had improved your Inuit enough to explain to him what you were actually here for.
>If whaling routes was what you were interested in, he said he would make sure you would accompany the expeditions in the spring.
>But that’s not what you were talking about right now.
>Those paw prints were far more concerning.
>The old seal scratches his chin and sighs disapprovingly as you explain to him what you and Toklo saw.
>[It is rare to find wolves up this far] He explains.
>[It is why my elders chose to move the tribe here when I was young.]
>You both drink tea, appreciating its warmth more than ever now that it was actually cold.
>[Every few winters, they will follow the river North for food.]
>[They Bring Amaroq with them. Makes it dangerous to hunt.]
>[When were they here last?] You ask
>Yoskolo stares off into space, trying to remember.
>You noticed awhile ago that his ‘black’ eyes were actually more a dark gray color.
>You wondered if cataracts were starting to form.
>[About ten winters ago, I think] He finally answers.
>You nod, happy that at least this wasn’t a normal occurrence.
>[How many are there?] You question.
>Yoskolo pauses for a moment.
>you still hadn’t learned to count beyond 10, so it took him a moment to give you an answer.
>[Between ten and two, or ten, ten, and four]
>...
>Oh, between 12 and 24.
>[That’s not including any pups they might have] he added.
>He lets out a long sigh.
>[Amaroq is among us now. This will not be an easy winter.]
>You say nothing and finish your tea.
>[You should not hunt alone] the old seal advised.
>You still had a bit of your salted pork and hardtack left, but not enough to survive on the whole winter.
>It would definitely be a good idea to stock up on fish and seals before the sea became covered in ice.
>It was already starting to freeze over. As always, you had limited time.
>You thank the elder for the tea.
>[Once Toklo and I have taken what we need] you explain [the rest of the Caribou is for the village].
>Yoskolo smiles, but you could tell that it was simply a mask for his worries.
>[A good hunt!] he exclaims.
>[Let us hope there are more this winter.]


You grab another seal carcass and chuck it into your boat.
>You had found a small group of them playing near a chunk of ice.
>Normally you would have used your bow, but you wanted to get as many of them as possible before they swam away.
>You managed to tag four with your rifle before the rest made a break for it.
>Still it felt strange killing and eating these animals and then going and talking to anthros that looked eerily similar.
>But it wasn’t like you had much of a choice, seals were probably the most useful animal to hunt.
>They gave you meat, heating oil, and rope.
>You begin your row back to shore, content with your haul.
>With the wolves wandering around, it was easier to just go to sea for food.
>And they were indeed nearby, looking for a meal.
>In the two weeks since you had found their footprints, hunters had been returning saying they spotted them in the distance, roaming the frozen river’s delta.
>Apparently they were keeping their distance for now, but with how worried Yoskolo seemed about them that could change any day.
>You make a small grunt as you row closer to the shoreline.
>You were really starting to get tired of this damn boat.
>When spring came you would have to figure out how to make one of those small canoes you saw the villagers in.
>Your train of thought is suddenly interrupted by a sudden gust of wind.
>The skin on your face cracks at the sudden impact.
>Thank God your beard gave you a bit of insulation.
>But the wind presses even harder.
>Wait why is the boat spinning?
>You stumble to the side as the wind slams in to the bow of the rowboat.
>You stagger, trying desperately to find a grip.
>You don’t even have time to yell as you see it.
>A large chunk of ice bashes right into the vessel.
>You lurch over the edge, your body weight and gravity plunges you face first into the water below.
>You don’t even feel cold for a solitary second.
>You just simply feel nothing.
>Your whole body, including your muscles, become numb from the freezing water.
>Oh shit!
>Your clothes!
>The fur instantly absorbed the sea water.
>Desperation kicks in as you begin wildly flailing your arms, trying to get to the surface.
>The salt blinds your eyes, your can’t see anything.
>Meanwhile your clothes are dragging you further down into the abyss.
>So this is how you would die.
>Drowned in the middle of the Arctic ocean.
>You’re running out of air.
>The moment you did any buoyancy you had would evaporate.
>You didn’t have the strength to kick your legs.
>And your arms were getting slower with each wild flail.
>You feel your hand brush against something and you instantly cling onto it. Your fingernails digging in.
>You reach out with your other hand and grab it as well.
>You gasp out, you feel the air bubbles in front of your face rise to the surface.
>Your mouth floods with salt water as you pull yourself to the surface.
>Your face breaks through the water gasping and hacking out seawater.
>You finally open your eyes to see what you had grabbed onto.
>It was your oar. It had gotten stuck on the boat’s rowlock.
>Operating on pure instinct, you haul yourself over into the boat. 
>You can feel bile building up in your throat.
>Now that you weren’t operating on instincts anymore you could feel your muscles and joints on fire.
>The pain is indescribable.
>But now you had another problem.
>You were freezing to death.
>The violent wind had luckily died down.
>But the sun was going down.
>And the temperature was dropping.
>You needed to tear these clothes off!
>But being naked was no better in these conditions.
>Shit!
>You could feel your body start to shut down.
>You needed to get to shore.
>You look down at the dead seals, laying there undisturbed from all this commotion.
>You take your knife and stab into one of the corpses.
>You knew you weren’t thinking clearly. Hypothermia often resulted in mental delusions.
>But this was the only thing you could come up with to buy you some time.
>You quickly carve into the cadaver’s gut, tearing out a hunk of fat, meat and Lord knows what.
>You throw it into your mouth and begin to chew, holding back the urge to vomit right then and there.
>You were hoping the chewing would give you just a bit of blood flow to hang on.
>You grab the oars. You could feel your body cursing you in every way possible.
>Letting out loud grunts in between the bitter fat and uncooked flesh you power row your way to the shore line.
>You stumble out of the boat, Your feet hitting the receding waves as you don’t even bother to pull your boat out and retrieve your things.
>It had taken you ten minutes to get back.
>That was too long!
>You could barely move, each step felt like cold lightning shooting up your spine.
>You were going to die!
>You had reached land but it wouldn’t matter.
>You couldn’t make it to your hut in time.
>And even if you did what could you do?
>These pelts felt cemented onto you. Did you have the strength to rip them off?
>To dry yourself?
>To start a fire.
>You could feel your muscles twitch and your arms would spasm randomly.
>Your nerves were completely fried.
>With knocked knees you stagger to the only place you could reach to in time.
>You collapse in front of the hut.
>You grind your teeth so hard they crack as you dig your fingers into the dirt and drag your body into the doorway.
>Your fingers were bleeding profusely at this point.
>You couldn’t even feel them.
>You couldn’t feel anything.
>You see nothing but a pair of muscular legs as they turn towards you. Followed by a surprised yelp.
>You don’t have the strength to look up.
>[Anon!]
>You lay your head on the ground below.
>You know it’s just your body shutting down.
>But the ground still feels so warm. So nice.
>[Help] you moan out.
>You had once felt pieces of lead fly less than an inch away from your skull.
>And sharpened metal slice and stick your skin.
>Never once did you fear the outcomes.
>Because in those moments, you were comfortable and ironically felt safe.
>Death in the context of war was a fitting end for you.
>You once looked at old photos of battlefields from the Yanks civil war.
>Corpses scattered completely throughout a shelled out country-side.
>You would imagine yourself as one of those bodies, lifeless and torn apart.
>You felt oddly enough at home.
>You didn’t try to be morbid. It didn’t stem from a perverse fascination with death or a cynical rejection of the world.
>It was…
>It was like the same way someone would ask to be buried in a grave, or cremated and their ashes scattered.
>But this wasn’t a death from a war.
>You wouldn’t be killed in action.
>You felt violated and you for once saw death as the terrifying thing it always was. Outside of the context you were comfortable with.
>For the first time in your life, you let out a plea you often heard but never said.
>[I don’t want to die.]


>You are knee deep in the wet mush of a rice paddy field.
>The gun smoke obscures the battle all around you.
>The figures you see dancing beyond the smoke are not people, but memory of people.
>Weird, distorted, their movements are janky and unnatural.
>With a pistol in one hand and a sword in another you scream gibberish in Chinese.
>Kill. Kill them all.
>They are not people.
>But shadows of people.
>There is a memory of a young women crying over a corpse.
>But it is just a memory.
>A product of your brain interpreting reality.
>It is not objective!
>You are waist deep in a paddy field.
>Muck and filth slowly suck you into its cocoon.
>The mushy slice of a saber into muscle.
>Or the collapsing impact of a bullet into a target.
>These are visceral, immediate and gratifying.
>This is what is real! Not memories, not people.
>All context is a lie, all crescendos and plummets are illusions.
>All that matters is the collision! The action! The explosion!
>KILL!
>KILL THEM ALL!
>A plume of spears beneath the mud shoot up. Violently hoisting you up above the paddy field as they impale you in the legs, arms, and shoulders.
>You breath heavily, your face turning red as your squirm in ecstasy at the pain.
>The blood hunger you felt towards others
>was just a mask to hide the true bloodlust you felt towards yourself.
>You stretch your neck back and groan as the spears twist and turn inside your body.
>Breaking your veins and deflowering your bones.
>You are not a man.
>You are a monster.
>More.
>Give me more.
>Another spear shoots up, stopping inches away from your neck.
>You smile as you plunge your throat down upon it. Your eyes water as the tip stirs your Adam’s apple like an egg yolk.
>You roll your eyes back, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you drive the shaft further through your flesh.
>A mixture of your saliva and blood trickle down the spear.
>This is a good pain.
>This is all that ever was.
>And ever will be.
>You shall drown in your orgasmic agony.
>Forever.
>You hear the rattling of chains descend from the heavens as they assault your body, wrapping and tightening themselves around you.
>Your eyes widen in panic as you try to grasp onto the spears.
>No.
>Don’t pull me away.
>This is my home.
>Please!
>Your silent pleas go unanswered as these chains gain a stranglehold over your body.
>They begin to pull you out from your impalement.
>You scream from the pain.
>The pain of being ripped away from your lowly, desecrated perversion.
>This is not a good pain.
>You are bound in a ball of clinking metal as you ascend up to the sky.
>To be taken to judgement.
>You are afraid.
>To be caught so red handed.
>And you go faster.
>And faster.
>And faster
>The air currents are slicing into your face.
>Every moment the chains speed up you grow even more anxious, awaiting with tortuous anticipation your punishment.
>But it felt like dividing a number into smaller and smaller numbers.
>No matter what happened, you would never get to zero.

>There was no whiplash when you arrived, no headaches or nausea when you were brought to a sudden stop.
>Your eyes begin to tear up as you realize your final destination.
>Oh no.
>Please.
>Not here.
>Anywhere but here.
>Please have mercy.
>“Wat is die naam van jou Pappa?” you say slowly.
>You weren’t in control of your words at this point.
>You were following the script, as transcribed by your brain.
>You were sitting in that same chair, still bound by your chains.
>“Rhett” The little canine girl says, as cheerful as ever. Still covered in her blanket.
>In this moment you were in Hell.
>You had sunken to the lowest pits of your depravity.
>But instead of being hauled up to some divine creator to scold and punish you.
>You were sent here, to showcase your own lowly indulgences to childlike innocence.
>There was no mask of kindness or civility you could wear.
>It was too much for you too take.
>Even if it was just a memory, a distorted, painful memory.
>It felt real enough to you!
>You wanted to scream and beg to be taken away.
>Instead you just listened to her next line.
>“Hy het my ouma se naam gegee”
>You throw your head back against the wall behind you.
>You slam into it with as much force as your capable of, trying to break your skull.
>“Maar ek hou nie van die volle naam,” She added “so ek gaan net deur Lizzie.”
>You could feel the blood from your earlier wounds drip onto the floor. Defiling this place.
>You couldn’t bear to stain this place any longer with your presence.
>You finally hear the crunch at the final impact as the back of your head splits like an egg.
>You slump forward and fall towards the floor.
>You finally feel your life begin to end, this inferno now almost over.
>You look up at the bed where she laid.
>It was curious though.
>Despite all that happened, your last thought before you died…
>She really was…
>Such a sweet little girl.


>Your eyes bulge out as you wake up sucking in air.
>Your hands shoot out instinctively as they try to fend off some imaginary threat.
>You let out a loud gasp.
>You feel its grip on you tighten around your chest.
>“Ahh, no!” you let out
>You begin to violently squirm out of your prison.
>Trapped in a dark abyss, you couldn’t see anything.
>But the more you struggled, the more constrained you became.
>“Let me go!” you said frantically.
>Where were you?
>Where was anything?
>[Stop. It.] you hear a firm, aggressive voice.
>“No! Go away!”
>You weren’t thinking clearly.
>You realized that what was wrapped around your chest were arms and fins.
>[What is wrong with you?]
>Wait, that voice….
>[You woke me up!]
>Tapeesa?
>Your head begins to throb as you press your palms against your temple.
>[Are you well?] she asks slightly softer.
>You could understand her well enough.
>But you couldn’t focus enough to formulate the complex words.
>You went straight to English on instinct.
>You could feel Tapeesa place one of her large hands on your chest.
>Your bare chest.
>It was at that moment you realized you were naked.
>She would feel the deep, frantic breaths reverberating throughout your torso.
>With a quick movement she turns you over to face her.
>You swore those pitch black eyes glowed in the darkness of her hut.
>Could she see everything? Like the panic and fear on your face.
>The things you had seen in your lifetime that you couldn’t dare describe in your own language.
>Let alone a foreign one.
>[You are still cold to the touch] she said firmly as she pulls back up the pelts you had carelessly thrown about earlier.
>[Come closer] You were surprised at how she said this in such an annoyed, matter-of-fact, platonic matter.
>To her, there was nothing suggestive about this.
>She grows impatient waiting for you and simply pulls you into her embrace. Resting your head against her neck.
>Her scent is earthy, but not foul.
>[S-sorry] you manage to stumble out.
>You hear her sigh as she wraps her arms around you.
>Her fur made you feel warm as your mind simmered down
>[It is fine. You had dream?]
>You nod quietly as you put your arms under hers.
>[I will light the Qulliq in awhile. Go sleep now.]
>You imagined Tapeesa’s large body and the countless pelts covering you as a cave of sorts.
>A cave that was sheltered against all the evils of the world.
>But then in that cave people would see hungry, glowing eyes.
>The eyes of the savage beast that dwelt in that cave.
>[The dream…wasn’t of whats to come] you say, struggling with the words.
>[It was of what already has come]
>She says nothing to this, her only sound is her deep, rumbling breath.


>You were told how harsh the Winters would be.
>You prepared with vast quantities of meat, pelts, and seal fat.
>You even felt the season was getting colder slower, letting you gradually adjust to the temperature.
>But you never were truly for your first real winter out here.
>Before with all your bundles of fur and pelts, you could still feel the wind hit you right in your bones.
>This…
>This went beyond that.
>And it was going to be like this every day.
>For months.
>Every time you came inside you had to constantly check your toes and fingers for frostbite.
>You had the qulliq burning all the time.
>The hut itself was actually quite nicely insulated.
>But without the fires of the qulliq, you weren’t certain if your body could warm up in time.
>Your thick, messy beard, which earlier in the season had been a blessing for you, now had it’s own issues.
>The snow fall was so fierce that within ten minutes it would get soaked and freeze.
>Which would cause problems in of itself.
>You had to wrap another pelt around your face for protection.
>The feeling of the fur pressing your wiry beard against your skin was unpleasant.
>It made you grouchy and short tempered, more so than the weather itself.
>You curse to yourself as you walk into your hut, caked in a layer of thick snow.
>Your fishing trip had been unproductive, you hadn’t caught a single thing.
>Despite it being a saltwater sea, the water eventually froze over. It just took longer than usual.
>Ironically the ice was actually a good source of water. As it froze all the salt flowed downward into the depths below.
>All the villagers swore up and down that the ice was safe to stand on, and so far they had been right.
>But you were still weary of it.
>After your near death experience a few weeks prior, you vowed never to get in a boat during the winter season at all.
>Even Tapeesa with all of her strength couldn’t rip the wet clothes off of you.
>She had to use a knife to cut you out of that freezing cocoon.
>Then she bundled you up and kept you close by the qulliq while she used her own body to keep you warm.
>You’d been wondering endlessly these past few weeks just how much longer you had before you would’ve died from hypothermia.
>It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes at most.
>You had been trying to figure out how to thank her properly for saving your life.
>You had been hoping to catch some fish, since you knew it was her favorite.
>But today was just a poor fishing day.
>You angrily throw your rod on the ground and begin to light up the qulliq, wanting to dry off your clothes.
>Suddenly you hear a plethora of shouting.
>If you could hear it at this distance, through this weather, and through this hut….
>Something was wrong.
>You hear howls.
>Howls of an animal.
>Oh shit!
>You quickly grab your rifle and rush out the door.
>You head towards the village, slowed down by the deep snow that catches you at the ankles.
>You hear the snarling and shouting grow louder.
>As you reach the huts, you see a large group of male seal anthros with bows and spears rush towards the other side of the village.
>You could barely see the outline of the wolves because of how their fur blended in with the snow.
>But you could tell they were huge beasts.
>You can see one on top of a seal anthro, its teeth sinking into his hand.
>It lets out a loud yelp as the seal tucks his legs against his chest and kicks the wolf in the stomach, sending him flying into the ground.
>As the animal stumbles back onto all fours, the rest of the pack begins to run away at the sight of small mob of villagers.
>You raise your rifle to shoot one of them.
>But your leg sinks deeper into the snow than you thought, throwing you off your mark.
>The bullet harmlessly shoots over the pack as they run into the great white beyond.
>The rest of the tribe flinches at the sound of your rifle, not used to the sound of gunfire at close proximity.
>You curse loudly at your bad aim as the others run over to the wounded seal.
>A good chunk of his left hand was ripped off. 
>He leans on another village for support as he’s taken over to his hut.
>His wife waits at the door, she doesn’t gasp or cry at his injury.
>Rather she quietly and sternly takes him into her arm and moves him into the privacy of their home to treat his wounds.
>She reminded you a lot of Tapeesa.
>Not even their child, who couldn’t have been older than ten showed any emotion at his injured Father.
>To be any less, was to invite death into their homes.
>Somehow it seemed like it all was a little microcosm for your own state of mind.
>Really the only one who saw you lose your composure was Tapeesa during the night she save your life.
>And that was under extraneous circumstances.
>...Or maybe not, maybe it was just a unnecessarily weak and pathetic response and she only took pity on you because you were a foreigner, unaccustomed to their way of life.  
>And even with that in mind…were you really as reserved as you made yourself out to be?
>You think back to your episode in the woods chopping down trees.
>Maybe you were just an unhinged lunatic waiting to snap and kill someone.
>That’s what the military believed when they threw you out.
>Truth was you hadn’t really been the same since South Africa, maybe even since China.
>You had nightmares more often and sometimes it seemed like the whole world would implode with you at the center point.
>You shake your head of these thoughts as you enter Yoskolo’s hut.
>There were far more important things to worry about.

>[They wouldn’t have come this close in the past] Yoskolo said as he chewed on the tough seal meat.
>You still couldn’t get over these Leopard seal Anthros eating their feral counterparts.
>And you were a human, so you shouldn’t really cared as much as you did.
>[Perhaps they’re desperate?] You chime in [Looking for food.]
>The old seal scratched his chin as he offered another piece of the dried meat to his wife.
>[I think not. Caribou are not easy to find in winter. But we’ve still had successful hunts.]
>His wife, Asiaq nibbles on the meat and ponders herself.
>[Not desperate. But arrogant. Maybe they’ve had many good matings these past few springs and have a larger pack than normal]
>Yoskolo sigh’s at her musings, not happy with the answer.
>[They’re big too!] she added [If they stand on their back legs, they would probably be taller than Anon.]
>Yoskolo let out a tired cough. It was evident his lungs weren’t very strong at his age.
>A lifetime of this world would break down even the strongest of bodies eventually.
>[They should head back south when Spring comes. But still…] he trails off
>You drink more of their tea.
>You had grown accustom to the bland, herbal taste. 
>[Amaroq is descending upon us, and he is hungry.]


>You stumble into Tapeesa’s hunt. 
>The storm outside was so severe you couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of your face.
>You really could only find it through sheer blind memory.
>She blinks at you as you rub the melting snow out of your eyes.
>[Anon?] she asks slowly.
>You hold up your prize.
>Fish.
>You had caught a few earlier in the morning before the storm hit.
>You knew raw fish was her favorite.
>It was a meager way to thank her for her friendship, but it was a start.
>She tilts her head as she walks towards you.
>It was staggering just how much taller she was than you. She easily had two feet on you.
>[For me?]
>Her deep, yet oddly maternal voice helped to warm your warm body up.
>She was always so matter-of-fact, plain, and simple in her tone and expressions.
>You nod your head.
>[I thought we could share. I caught many.]
>She grunts as she sits down upon her bed of thick pelts, making space for you beside her.
>[Take your coat off first and let it dry] She adds in.
>As you comply and shrug off the damp clothes you immediately feel the chill set in.
>Despite the good insulation of these sod huts, the weather was such that it was always cold and sleeping in your coats and jackets was basically essential.
>It was a farcry from your days in Sudan where you tried to wear as little as possible.
>In fact the only way you could take off your outer layers indoors and still stay warm was….
>To huddle close to someone else, someone who preferably had fur.
>Someone like Tapeesa.
>As you sit down besides her, you’re not shy about leaning into her body for warmth.
>She takes one of the fish out of the bundle and begins to eat it raw. Each of her teeth in her maw sharp like a dagger.
>And white like ivory, even when eating.
>You still cooked yours over the qulliq.
>You hadn’t grown accustom to eating raw fish yet.
>For a long time you are both silent. All that there is are the noises of Tapeesa’s munching, the crackles of the fire, and the sound of the storm outside.
>This was ideal for you.
>You liked the quiet. Perhaps the trumpeting carnage of war and worn out your eardrums.
>You poke the cooked fish with a stick and carefully pull it out of the fire, Biting into the charred flesh.
>[Have you had any of your dreams, Anon?] Tapeesa asks out of the blue.
>You pull back from your meal and stare at her.
>[Why?] You ask, feeling a little vulnerable at the suddenness of the question [It’s not exactly good dinner talk.]
>She shrugs her shoulders as she scootches her hips closer to you.
>[You had poor dream last time you were here. Wanted to know if you had anymore.]
>You turn back to your fish, looking at it stoically before sinking your teeth into it again.
>You can feel a small bone stuck in your teeth.
>[A few times. It’s nothing important]
>You can now feel her leaning against you.
>Her fur was like someone had lit a warm ember in your belly.
>[When slept here] She said with a slight hint of concern [you woke up yelling in your tongue.]
>You touch your elbow with hers.
>Your head is only inches away from her muscular arms.
>[Sorry.] You reply [That one was worse than the others]
>You feel her pull away as she turns to look at you.
>Those big black eyes staring down at you.
>[I wish you would tell me what you saw.]
>You look down at the pelts below you.
>The snow outside seemed to grow louder and harsher.
>[I…I want to keep them to myself] You stammer out nervously.
>She nods, complying with your wishes, but still frowning.
>She reaches her head down and bumps your forehead with her muzzle.
>Such a small gesture was very affectionate for someone as reserve as Tapeesa.
>You resisted the urge to reach up and pet the side of her face like she was some domestic cat.
>She was far more dignified than that.
>And by God was she beautiful.
>[I want you to stay here for the night]
>The words sounded as indifferent as asking to help with chores.
>But with Tapeesa, it was the words themselves that mattered, not the way they were said.
>You liked that about her.
>[Why?] You ask.
>She huffs.
>[Because the storm is strong and cold and you might lose yourself on your way home.]
>[But mostly…] she adds slowly [I have yet to slumber with you not suffering from a dream]
>There was no way you could physically remove yourself from her eyes.
>Her large, beautiful eyes.
>[I want to see Anon with a calm sleep.]
>Not able to restrain yourself any longer, you reach your hand out and place it over her hand.
>She flinches in surprises as you thumb over the bony ridges.
>You can feel your eyelids lower as you look back up at the Leopard seal.
>She’s breathing slightly heavier, her bosom rising and falling back noticeably with each breath.
>[I’m tired.] You say slowly.
>[May we sleep early?]
>Tapeesa nods as she pulls up the pelts from under the two of you and wraps them around herself.
>She opens them up to you, inviting you into the warmth.
>You crawl into the covers and arch your back and stretch your legs when you feel them descend over you and her arm wrap around your waist and pull you in.
>This was just all to keep each other warm.
>Right?
>At this moment you don’t care much as you lean your head into her neck and breath in her musk.
>A scent that knocks you out so quickly, you don’t notice yourself draping your arms around her hips.
>She doesn’t stop you regardless.


>You never told this to anyone, not Tapeesa, or Yoskolo.
>No one in the village knew or had caught you.
>But sometimes you would strap on every single layer of fur you had and go out on the pretense of hunting.
>You would wander in the wilderness, stumbling blindly as the snow blew into your face.
>You’d clinch and release your hands constantly to stimulate blood flow.
>Every sense seemed to become heightened as you intentionally breathed heavy.
>Every soft crunch your boot would make in virgin snow was more euphoric than any opium pipe.
>It was like each track you left was akin to a fling with a woman. After the pleasure left you simply discarded it and moved on.
>Each boot print another virgin lover you spurred.
>It made you feel powerful.
>Then finally you would pick a spot where you would plant your feet.
>This patch of deflowered snow would be your lover.
>The fact that it was no different from all the rest was inconsequential.
>Rather it was more exciting that way.
>“Why” the other tracks of snow would think in your mind “why was I not picked? What’s so different about that one? Why am I not good enough.”
>The truth was there no reason. You simply pick this small patch of snow because you could and rejected the rest because you felt like it.
>To so haphazardly brush aside everything on your whims was exciting.
>It made you feel….important.
>You squat down into the snow.
>You want to freeze in time, to be wrapped in a womb of snow and ice.
>You want the cold to pierce your skin and freeze your very bones into crystals.
>To have this landscape scrape away your soul.
>To become a monument.
>A monument to what you weren’t sure.
>But mostly.
>You just didn’t want to feel human for awhile.


>There is a moment in everyone’s life where their parent put them down and never picked them up again.
>It’s one of those seminal junctures that no one ever really thinks about.
>It’s the same with the end of Winter. At least it felt that intimate to you.
>There was a moment where the wind and snow caused your joints to ache.
>And your face to flush red from the cold.
>Where you would silently curse and mutter unkind things for its unpleasantness.
>Then it would die down…and never come back until next year.
>And to be without it as a bitter companion after all this time was a change that was hard to get accustom to.
>In a way it was like returning from war.
>One month you’re in the thick of battle, a single momentary loss of concentration could result in your death.
>You had to bring the entirety of your very being to the forefront, with all its ugliness.
>Then, possibly in another month you would be having dinner with your…friends? Family?
>All that focus, all that great human accomplishment in living, all that beautiful masculine energy was simply not needed anymore.
>You didn’t need to be that intense anymore.
>You could sit back and drink wine and get fat.
>Needless to say you were happy with your decision to become a career soldier.
>Well at least in comparison to leading a simple civilian life.
>You were no longer a soldier anymore.
>But surviving this Winter was a good replacement.
>And you were looking forward to 11 more.
>Just like when a battle ended.
>There was always another one just over the horizon.
>You look over at Tapeesa as she sits outside your hut.
>Sitting on the grass instead of snow.
>In less layers than her winter clothes. Revealing how slender her body actually was despite her muscular build.
>You sit besides her, passing her a dish of cooked caribou meat along with some berries you had picked earlier.
>[The ice is melting] she said, plopping a berry into her mouth.
>[I won’t go out until it’s all gone].
>She smiles [Afraid?]
>[Yes.]
>She seems surprised by your honesty and turns back to her food.
>[Most males would not admit to being afraid of anything. Especially to a woman.]
>[I am not most males] You reaffirm.
>[No…you are not.]
>both of your arms lightly touch.
>Despite the fact that neither of you really showed affection to each other
>And that despite sleeping together you hadn’t…copulated.
>It was clear to both of you that you were infatuated with each other.
>You both visited one another regularly and shared food.
>That was custom among the whole tribe, but it felt different with Tapeesa.
>She was a rather solitary individual, much like you.
>Which made your time spent together all the more meaningful.
>[Whale hunting will begin as soon as the ice melts] Tapeesa says.
>You nod.
>[Yoskolo has allowed me to participate. I am very grateful.]
>Tapeesa chews on the tough piece of meat.
>[That’s why you came here? Right?]
>You nod again.
>[Yes, among other things. My…people wish to know about the whale routes, so they can hunt themselves.] 
>You heard the distinct sound of her stop eating.
>You turn over to Tapeesa.
>She’s looking at you in your eyes.
>There Is a new look to them that you’ve never seen before.
>Sadness and worry.
>[My late husband died whaling, Anon.]
>That monotone, authoritative voice didn’t match her expression.
>You place your hand over her fin.
>That was the closest to affection you too had come to.
>And it wasn’t a common thing between the two of you.
>[I’ll survive.] You assure her.
>She lets out a sign and slowly pulls her handback to her food.
>[I’m happy you didn’t say anything like ‘I’ll be careful’. That’s what he said before he left.]
>You blink.
>[If I did say that it wouldn’t be true.]
>[Huh?] She looks back to you with a confused look.
>[Hunting a whale is the opposite of being careful.]
>Tapeesa can’t help but let out a little smile.


>[Anon, are you ready?]
>You nod to the villager as you strip down to just a pair of pants and boots.
>Even in the spring, the air was frigid against your skin.
>But this was a better alternative in case you fell off the boat again.
>It was nothing more than dumb luck that you had avoided drowning before.
>All those thick pelts should have dragged you into a watery grave.
>And this was a much more dangerous task.
>[There is another boat out there] the villager explained [they’ve been trailing a whale.]
>You hear the excited gasps as the other leopard seals admired your physique.
>It was clear from looking at their own bodies that physical strength was valued.
>Honestly in comparison to you, they looked liked they were sculpted from marble.
>You had a bit of a belly from the almost pure meat diet you had been consuming for the past year.
>But what they liked even more than your body were the scars on them.
>It was like Tapeesa said, it showed courage and toughness as a warrior to them.
>[Anon, take the spear and slay the whale.]
>The ‘spear’ in question was actually a harpoon with a rope at the end tied to the small boat.
>That’s what made whaling so dangerous.
>If you made a poor strike and didn’t kill the creature instantly, the beast might drag the whole crew under.
>One of the five man crew always had an axe to cut the rope in those situations. But even with that precaution it was becoming clear to you just how easy it was to get killed.
>You remembered how Tapeesa said her fiance died.
>He fell off the boat and the whale’s tail smashed into him.
>If he didn’t die instantly from that, with all his bones broken it must have been impossible for him to swim and thus drowned.
>There was no romanticism about that.
>These people lived hard lives.
>But there you were at the stem of the boat.
>They had replaced their small one-man canoes for larger boats similar to your row boat.
>You had tied a rope around your own waist, one of the seals behind would pull you up in case you fell off.
>It was also so you could lean down at a 45 degree angle to spear the whale with the rope’s leverage.
>You were about to find out just how strong seal skin rope really was.
>[THERE THEY ARE!] You hear a cry behind you.
>You look out to your left and see the other crew trailing the whale.
>The sea was a bit shallow in this region, they must have herded the beast here.
>It was unreal.
>Such a small vessel chasing a titan of the sea into such a trap.
>The level of skill and seamanship seemed impossible.
>How long did one have to live to be able to accomplish such a feat?
>[Anon! Get ready! We’re moving in.]
>You nod as you step forward up on the little platform
>You feel the rope tighten as you balance yourself, careful not to slip off.
>The harpoon is quite heavy. Made out of a strong, thick wood and stone that was sharpened and barbed.
>You can heal the leopard seals breath and pant in sync as they row together towards the target at a frighteningly fast speed.
>There are two other boats besides yours, meant to surround and box the creature in.
>The whale would be confused just long enough for you to make your strike before it realized that it could just overpower the entire group.
>You see from your peripheral as the boats break off to get into position.
>You could see the whale’s upper mass break through the water.
>Your eyes widened as it angrily raised its tail and slapped it back into the ocean.
>The resulting wave rocked the boat behind it that had herded it, causing the crew to lose their balance briefly.
>What an awesome creature.
>You had spent a good portion of your life fighting in the civilized world.
>But to hunt a titan such as this was another matter.
>But you resisted the urge to revel in ‘the hunt’.
>You wanted to treat this whole ordeal with more dignity than that.
>The speed of the boat slows as the seals turn it to face the front of the whale.
>Other than the tail, you couldn’t really make out it’s shape.
>It was just a massive black blob to you.
>As you got closer to it you could see one of it’s eyes on the side of its head.
>You gripped the harpoon tightly.
>You didn’t really want to kill it you suddenly thought.
>It would seem like such a shame to take this beast’s life. Proof that the world still had some wonder and mystery to it.
>But it had to be done.
>The tribe lived and died by the whale’s meat, blubber, and bones.
>At the very least, you knew nothing would be wasted.
>How many countless lifetimes had been spent with these creatures in just this village alone? Centuries? Maybe even a millennium.
>They had more than enough time to appreciate and venerate the whale.
>Your resolve strengthened again you take a step forward.
>You feel the rope tighten around you as you straighten your body and lean it down towards the whale.
>You raise the harpoon and throw it directly at its head.
>The moment it leaves your hand you feel the rope pull, sending you butt first into the boat.
>You can feel the vessel tremble from the waves as the whale spasms and violently flails.
>The other boats quickly sink their own harpoons into the beast’s flesh as well.
>Each harpoon was also roped and attached to the boat so that the boats could support the carcass and prevent it from sinking.
>When you stand back up you’re greeted by the site of foam mixed with blood.
>It was a grisly scene.
>And the smell wasn’t much better.
>With your hunt now over, you pick up an oar and help with the rowing.
>Even with the whale’s corpse tied to four fully manned boats, it was still a feat of strength to row to shore.
>Even the impressive physique of the leopard seals seemed strained at the effort.
>Your body in comparison could barely keep up with the rowing. At this point you were purely motivated by not shaming yourself in front of the other males.
>Though even when you reached the shoreline the work was far from over.
>You still had to pull the body onto shore before any sea creatures got a scent of the blood.
>Those muscles on the seals that had always seemed so lean to you suddenly bulged out as they panted and gritted their teeth as they heaved the giant whale onto land.
>You couldn’t even pretend like you were contributing.
>They didn’t seemed to mind though.
>Even then when the cadaver was pulled onto shore there still was the danger it being devoured by birds or other scavengers.
>As you wiped the sweat off of your brow you wished you could have just splashed some cold sea water on your body.
>But right now it was all tainted by the blood of whale.
>You see Yoskolo and the other older seals approach you.
>[You made the blow to the head?] he asked, sounding impressed.
>You nod.
>[Yes, but it wasn’t the killing blow, it was still moving when I struck.]
>The old seal grunts, pleased at your honesty.
>[These grand beasts, are never so easy.]
>It was strange seeing the elder shuffle his feet.
>His body posture suddenly seemed awkward.
>Was he…acting embarrassed.
>[We must commence the cutting ritual and give thanks.] He said.
>[But…this is only allowed among our own.] He further explained [Our ancestors might be displeased if we let an outsider attend.]
>You blinked.
>[I understand.] You say, now suddenly feeling awkward yourself.
>Yoskolo grabs your shoulder and gestures towards the whale.
>[But as a hunter. Please give your thanks now. You deserve that much.]
>It was strange how they saw giving you an opportunity to thank the creature you just killed as an honored privilege.
>But with everything you had seen and done in your life, perhaps it wasn’t the worst custom to follow.
>You take a few steps towards the body, bleeding out on the ground.
>You notice all the leopard seals were staring at you.
>Oh right. They were waiting on you.
>You didn’t really know how to do this….
>With a loud smack, you clasp you hands together and make a slight bow towards the dead whale.
>[THANK YOU FOR YOUR BODY! WE SHALL USE IT WELL! NO BONE SHALL GO TO WASTE!]
>That sounded far better in your head than out loud.
>But the rest of the tribe seem to approved. Even if they were grinning slightly at the clumsy attempt.
>You slowly back away to let the rest of the tribe carry out their rituals and butcher the carcass.
>You feel Yoskolo’s hand on your shoulder again.
>[I’ll make sure you get a large portion of the whale. Anything you want specifically? Fat, Teeth-]
>You waive your hand and cut him off.
>[Just meat please, give the rest to others that need it.]
>The leopard seal lets out a wide grin, showing off his teeth.
>Despite his old age and hobbled appearance, they were just as sharp and intimidating as all the rest.
>[You are both generous and humble. Come back later in the afternoon, we should be done by then.]
>You quietly nod as you make your way back to your hut. 

>You hear the loud clickings of a tongue as you see your hut in sight.
>You turn your head to see Tapeesa, smiling at you.
>It was rare to see her show any expressions.
>She was always so stoic.
>[Your hunt was successful?] She asked.
>You nodded
>[They’re cutting it up now…why aren’t you there?]
>She raises her brow at you.
>[I am like you, an outsider.]
>Oh right.
>You felt dumb even asking such a question.
>She giggles
>Damn why is she acting so flirty and girly today?
>She points her hand at you.
>[I see you’re enjoying the weather.]
>Huh?
>You look down.
>Oh Hell!
>You had totally forgotten to put your clothes back on when you got back on shore.
>You were still in just your pants and boots right now.
>You must have just acclimated to the cooler weather.
>She gestures you to follow her back to your hut.
>[Are you cold?] She asked [with no fur?]
>You shrug.
>[I never had fur. So I don’t know how much warmer I could be.]
>She nods.
>[Well I have pelts you can rest under.]
>It hadn’t occurred to you til that very moment just how tired you were.
>The whole morning had worn your body out.
>Suddenly you began to feel your steps become more haggard as the weariness quickly set in.
>Your eyes begin to droop as the afternoon sun reaches its peak.
>It was annoying you.
>Tapeesa takes your hand and guides you into her hut, where its dimness provides relief for your pupils.
>How did you not notice before how your muscles were aching and sore?
>Were you just distracted by all the momentum of the day?  
>[Tapeesa…] you say lightly as she catches you from collapsing.
>[Half the time I see you] she complains [you seem tired beyond words.]
>[Oh. I’m sorry] you say as she gently lowers you into her bed of soft pelts.
>[It’s fine. It means you can keep the bed warm at least.] She pulls the blankets up over the two of you.
>She wraps her hands around you and presses her cleavage against your back as you nestle into her embrace.
>She rests her head on top of yours.
>You can feel her breathing and the vibrations in her throat as she lets out a pleasant little rumble.
>Just how many times had this exact scenario played out in the past?
>And when did you realize (or admit) that this wasn’t exactly platonic anymore?
>[Right now. I’m just happy you came back safe.]
>You trace your fingers over her bony fingers. Still amazed at how they were so different from normal hands.
>[You…were really worried I wouldn’t come back?] you asked.
>You feel her grip tighten on you as she pulls you even deeper into her embrace.
>It was an all encompassing body hug.
>[Since my husband died, I always thought I was cursed.] She whispered faintly.
>[I thought that all the….people close to me would die in the sea. And after you fell in the ocean before…I was anxious that this hunt would…]
>You grabbed her arms and hugged them closer to you.
>You never wanted her to release her grip on you.
>[Don’t you know the feeling, Anon? Of sadness being repeated?]
>[Haven’t you ever lost someone you cared about?]
>You wondered if Tapeesa immediately regretted that question when she felt your breathing spike.
>[A-Anon?] she asks, her husky voice breaking and showing her concern.
>[There was someone.] You mumble so quietly she could barely hear it.
>One of her hands moves up from your chest and begin to pet your hair softly.
>[Who?]
>[A little girl.]
>[Was she…yours?]
>[No. I only knew her for a short time.]
>[But she was precious to you?]
>[Very much.]
>[And is she…]
>[She’s not here anymore.]
>Awful memories for those days, which you realized were far more recent than you would like, begin to bubble up.
>It was only because of Tapeesa’s soothing body that you could keep your composure.
>[What happened?] She asked.
>You grab her hand which had been petting her and bring it back to your chest.
>[I don’t wish to speak about it.] You say softly.
>You feel her head nod.
>[I’m sorry, Anon]
>With a small surprised yelp from her, you turn over and press your face against her fur.
>You needed to feel her body on your face.
>To smell her scent to put you to sleep.
>[Please] you slur before you finally pass out.
>[Please don’t apologize to me.] 


>In the Fall you prepared.
>In the Winter you endured.
>And it the Summer…
>You swam.
>The warm season was all one big blur to you.
>Partly because of how short it was.
>But mostly it was due to how you lost yourself in the lazy days.
>All you would do is swim and catch fish all day.
>More often than not you would leave your hut and come back without even a shirt on.
>It felt like you had stumbled upon the Garden on Eden.
>Your usual soldierly discipline gave way to napping on the beach. Only waking up when you felt the rising tide splash you in the face.
>You smiled as you imagined the thought that you were sent here as a punishment.
>If only they could see you now. Half naked like a jungle savage and living off of berries and fish.
>Even the wolves were gone. They had followed the river back south to their mating grounds after Winter.
>Life was…good.
>You wondered when it had ever been like that for you.
>Maybe you had been so warped by the past decade that you never realized that there was such a thing as ‘the good life’.
>Really? What had you done with yourself all this time?
>Your childhood was spent a poor English city. You had gotten into the military academy only because of the connections of a friend.
>Sudan was nothing more than bloodshed in a scorching desert.
>China was gore and death in a swamp of rice paddies.
>And South Africa…
>South Africa had been its own Hell.
>Truthfully, maybe you weren’t as resilient as you thought.
>Maybe all the war and fighting had been eating away at you, slowly so you couldn’t notice it.
>Then finally South Africa was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
>The one shred of horror that was simply too much for you to take.
>Even now you could still hear that singular gunshot echo in your head.
>And even to this day, you still never regretted it.
>How could you? It all resulted in this little piece of paradise.
>But it couldn’t last forever.
>It barely lasted two months.
>It broke your heart when you made your last dive into the water, only to swim back up and clamor to your boat shivering.
>At least Tapeesa got a good laugh out of it at your expense.
>You didn’t say anything, but that might have been the thing you would miss most about Summer.
>When she stripped down to swim.
>You had felt it when you slept with her, but you had never actually seen them.
>Her abdominal muscles
>Oh Holy God.
>Every thing about her was toned. Her wide hips complimented her muscular core.
>Her thighs were thick, not with fat.
>But with muscle.
>You could finally appreciate her thin tail, swaying alongside her rear.
>It was hypnotizing.
>Her upper body was more lean, being a female.
>But it was difficult not to clench your teeth when you saw her flex her triceps.
>You had to clasp your hands together and squeeze to not be overwhelmed by her presence.
>To have your thoughts clouded by lust was not befitting.
>But Jesus was it hard.
>Worse yet, she knew you were gawking at her almost all the time.
>And you swore she was just unnecessarily flexing for your enjoyment.
>And every time she did, your warrior instinct kicked in.
>Except unlike before where you had an urge to fight, to kill, to win.
>This was an urge to….
>An urge to…
>To just rut her like a God Damn animal!
>Ironically, you ended up staying over at her hut less and less during the Summer.
>You couldn’t sleep snuggled up to her with such crass thoughts in mind.
>Maybe your evenings spent together were far from platonic. But one couldn’t just abandon the veneer of it.
>That wasn’t how a proper Englishman was raised.
>Another good reason why the Summer was such a blur.
>It was filled with thoughts of Tapeesa in barely any clothes.
>Maybe Fall was a blessing in disguise so you wouldn’t go mad with lust.
>And now you could distract yourself with hunting and foraging: stockpiling food and supplies for your second winter.
>You were experienced now, and you didn’t have to spend all your time building a Hut.
>As long as you were diligent you would have more than enough wood, seal blubber and food for the Winter.
>You didn’t see Tapeesa often when Fall first began. 
>And you were earnest in your reasons, it wasn’t just to avoid your less-than-decent feelings.
>You were caught up in the Hunt. A large caravan of Caribou had appeared.
>You and the rest of the village would make sure to hunt as many as possible.
>After a year, you’re body had grown strong.
>While before you almost passed out from carrying the beasts on your shoulders.
>Now you could make it back much easier, though still out of breath.
>The rest of the males nodded at you approvingly as you strode into the village, admiring your strength.
>A small group forms behind you as you finally drop your burden by your feet.
>One hauls the body away to be butchered.
>You still hadn’t learned how to do it yourself.
>Mainly because one wrong slice of the knife and you could burst the gallbladder, poisoning the meat with waste and bile.
>You didn’t really feel like being under the pressure of spoiling the food you had just hunted.
>Better leave it to the experts.
>As you begin to head out a number of the males pat you on the back, congratulating you for the good hunt.
>You would have to come back tomorrow for your share of the kill.
>This time you just wanted the pelts, you had enough food stored for now.
>As you stroll back to your hut your eyes set upon a familiar figure.
>Tapeesa, her arms crossed and looking down at you in front of your hut.
>She now wore the more thicker pelts you were used to. Hiding her figure that had driven you mad just a short while prior.
>[What brings you here?] you ask
>She huffs at you, annoyed.
>[I have not seen you much since Autumn started. You have not visited me once!]
>This was the first time you heard her sound aggravated.
>[There has been a busy hunt] You explain
>She huffs again as she steps aside.
>[If you will not come to me, then I will come to you.]
>She lowers her arms, her body language softens slightly.
>[Will you invite me for tea?]
>You nod as you gesture her to go inside before you.
>After you light the Qulliq you stumble around, trying to find those pots and cups you had bartered for earlier in the month.
>After a few minutes of fumbling you manage to get the water boiling.
>With a small grunt you sit back among the pelts next to Tapeesa.
>[It’s going to be cold again.] She says
>[Yes.]
>[Will you be alright?] she asks turning her face to you.
>You nod lightly [I have more than enough food and fat stored. I shall be fine]
>You both sit staring at the Qulliq, for the first time the silence felt awkward.
>When the water finally boils you pour it into two clay cups. Mimicking Asiaq, you add in the grinded herbs, giving it that mild aroma you had grown accustom to.
>Now the awkward silence is made worse by the slurping sounds you both make.
>Finally Tapeesa places her empty cup on the ground.
>[I would like to stay here for the night.] she says forwardly, but softly [Is that alright?]
>[Of course] you reply, finishing off your own cup of tea [You are always welcome here.]
>She says nothing, her words instead replaced by her standing up and slowly taking off her coat.
>You watch her carefully.
>You didn’t want to admit it.
>But you wanted to see her body again.
>You wanted to feel those muscles that made your mind mad with carnal desires.
>But even with her coat off, her clothes still covered too much.
>It was Fall after all, but it still felt cruelly coy.
>In your energetic frustration, you shoot right up to your feet, taking your coat off alongside her.
>She flinched at your sudden movement, eyeing you closely as you try to calm yourself down.
>You peel off the outer layer of your clothes, keeping only the first layer on, hoping she would do the same.
>She follows along with you, her clothes piling up beside her.
>She was keeping her composure.
>Meanwhile it felt like you were going to lose your mind.
>Your heart was beating so hard it felt like it was pressing against your skin.
>And you swore Tapeesa could tell you were breathing heavier.
>You suddenly turn around, crouching and facing your back to her as you pretend to tend to the qulliq.
>Anything to get yourself under control.
>You hear her step towards you as you stand back up.
>Your whole spine shivers as she places a hand on your shoulder.
>You can feel her breath on you.
>[Anon. Take off your shirt.] she says, again without a touch of sin in her voice.
>Oh God this wasn’t fair.
>[I like looking at your scars.]
>You grit your teeth and finally turn to face her.
>You comply as you slowly stretch out your arms and peel back the cloth over your head.
>She had seen you shirtless plenty times before.
>But this time it felt different to you.
>As if you were really exposing yourself this time around.
>First your abdomen
>Then your pectorals
>After than your shoulders.
>Finally all that was left was your head as your beard gets caught in the cloth before finally yanking it free.
>When that shirt hits the ground, it felt like you had abandoned your wits and all sense of decency.
>Tapeesa takes her hand and thumbs over the scar on your chest.
>[That one is my favor-
>In a violent, clumsy rush, you kiss her.
>Your lips pressed against the front of her maw.
>She lets at a shocked gasp and her eyes bolt wide open at the assault.
>But she doesn’t stop you.
>But your mind of lust isn’t encouraged by her arms that now dangle by her side.
>You purse your lips mid kiss and let out a small wine.
>Her whiskers tickle and twitch against your face.
>[Please] You beg
>[I need you.]
>The whole hut is dangerously quiet.
>Your lips are still pressed against her.
>This 8 foot tall behemoth of a woman.
>Who you had hopelessly fallen for.
>You had let loose your restraints and let your instincts kick in.
>While that worked in a warzone, did it…
>Did it not work here? Were you in the wrong?
>Your mind falls into horror at the idea that maybe you had just forced yourself onto a woman.
>You think back to all those awful memories of China and Peking.
>You break the kiss and take a small step back.
>Tapeesa is still staring directly into your eyes. Other than a small hint of surprise her face betrayed no expression.
>As usual.
>Well this was a new feeling to you.
>Rejection.
>You try to think of something to say, anything.
>[Tapeesa…I-
>Her arms shoot out and wrap around around your waist.
>She slams your body against hers, you feel the breath knocked out of you as your head mashes against her chest.
>As violent as your kiss was
>It was nothing compared to her force.
>Her lust.
>You let out a gasp as you look up at her.
>At this angle, she truly looked like a predator.
>And you were her meal.
>You lunge into her hungry mouth. Your hands digging into her shoulders as you practically climb up to meet those dangerous jaws.
>You had abandoned your survival instinct a long time ago.
>You kiss her once again and this time she returns it with equal fervor.
>It’s a genuine struggle between the two of you as you push her head up and she presses down upon you.
>Neither of you would give up. Not because of such complexities as winning or losing.
>But because it would mean your bliss would end.
>Her grip on you tightens as she elicits a low, hungry grown into your mouth.
>Those fangs of hers were an inch long.
>She could easily kill you if they sank into your neck.
>What you get instead was her tongue.
>Not necessarily long, but wide. Filling your mouth and overpowering your own organ.
>It was too much for you and you gave up the struggle.
>She compensates by cradling your head in her hand.
>Finally she pulls back and with a loud gasp you suck the air back into your lungs.
>Your hands move against her chest, shamelessly groping and massaging her breasts.
>[Off!] you demand with all the vigour of a petulant child.
>Your mind was in a blur, it was hard to formulate the words.
>[Take your shirt off! I need to feel you and taste you and press myself against you!]
>The Leopard seal pauses, stunned at your confession.
>Maybe she still hadn’t understood just how well her charms worked.
>[I need your fur in my face!]
>You felt like you were having an out of body experience. Your body lunges towards her, leaving the rest in a standstill.
>[Right]
>[Fucking]
>[Now]
>Before you can assault her body with you own, she grabs you and turns around tossing you down on the pelts below.
>There is serious strength behind her throw, you land with a noticeable thud.
>If not for the pelts cushioning your fall you probably would’ve had more than a few bruises.
>Panic rises in you as your face buries itself in the blankets.
>Did you go too far? Did she do that out of fear?
>You turn up and look at her, worry painted on your face.
>You get your answer.
>She grabs her shirt.
>She doesn’t pull it off.
>She rips it off, tearing the fabric in two.
>The thick…
>Caribou…
>Skin…
>A pelt so tough it was cumbersome to cut with a sharp knife.
>And she just….
>Oh my God.
>You saw her bare fur, her arms pumped and tense from the strain.
>Her breasts hung freely from her chest.
>Her abdominal muscles shown through the light gray fur, patches of it darkened by sweat.
>You’re practically hyperventilating, your chest rising and falling in quick succession.
>It wasn’t just your face that betrayed your desire.
>You’re whole body screamed for it.
>Screamed for her.
>With sudden force that causes your heart to leap to your throat, the Leopard seal slams her knees into the blankets on either side of your hips, trapping you.
>You shiver both from her touch and from the cool air as she rubs her hands over your bare chest.
>Your hands reach up, her cheeks melting into your palms.
>[Don’t stop kissing me.] You plead softly.
>She reaches down, her nose touching yours.
>You bring your hands behind her head and pull her into another kiss.
>You feel her hands begin to tangle themselves in your hair.
>Unlike before, the kiss isn’t forceful. It’s delicate and slow, letting you savour each others touch.
>But her tightening grip on your hair let you know that this wasn’t going to be lovemaking.
>It was going to be a fuck.
>You respond in kind by sinking your fingers into her soft hips.
>You force her thighs to land in your lap. Pelvises grinding into each other through the fabric of your pants.
>She could feel your excitement pressed against her.
>She pulls away from your mouth, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you.
>Her hands tug your head to the side, exposing your neck.
>Tapeesa licks her lips at your vulnerability.
>Her warm breath against your cool skin tickled.
>She lingers over your throat, her whiskers brushing against the flesh before her mouth gently kisses.
>It had to be gentle because you could feel her fangs prickle your neck.
>[Ahhhh] you let a small protest feeling her sharp teeth scrape across your neck, coming dangerously close to piercing the skin.
>She finally leans her whole body into you to restrain you.
>Your face is pressed into her cleavage as she begins to suck the skin.
>You could only moan into her breasts as her lips bruise the skin on your neck.
>With a loud plop she breaks away, leaving a small warm wet patch of skin.
>You use this opportunity to begin your own attack, feeling her body flinch as you take her nipple into her mouth and begin to suck and chew.
>Her handspress you head even hard into her bosom, mashing your face into her fur.
>Your hands moved from her hips to her rump, you feel the outline of her tail beneath her pants.
>You go cross-eyed as you feel the oxygen leave your brain.
>You pull back with a wheezing inhale. Your chin rests on her breasts as you look up at her.
>Even with those solid black eyes you could see nothing but lust in them.
>[I can’t wait anymore] you growl out as you rub your maleness against her hips.
>She sucks her lip in, nibbling on it with her teeth.
>She draws blood.
>[Me either]
>She sternly pushes you back down on your back with one fin.
>With her other hand she slides under your pants and tugs them down.
>Not very far down, just slightly below your thighs.
>In fact your mobility was rather restricted, you wouldn’t be able to spread your legs and get comfortable.
>At this point though, it seemed neither of you cared.
>You didn’t care if the logistics were less than…efficient.
>She just needed you inside her.
>Once your member is free from it’s restrictions Tapeesa pulls down her own pants in a similar fashion: just below the thighs.
>You feel overwhelmed from the heat emitting from her womanhood.
>She hadn’t even engorged you yet it’s warmth had already begun to stimulate your manhood further.
>You swallowed as you feel her dripping onto your skin liking it was melted candlewax.
>You grunt as Tapeesa puts her hands on your chest and leans her body weight onto you, preparing herself for the slightly awkward positioning.
>You fail to stop a yelp as you member brushes against her wet heat.
>Instructively you dig your hands into her ass and try to get her to finally spear herself onto you.
>She grins as she resists your attempts.
>[D-do you really want me that-
>Your hand quickly shoots to the back of her head. Her surprised squeal is cut short by a deep kiss as you invade her maw with your tongue.
>You had no patience for her coyness.
>[I need you.] You say firmly, almost angrily.
>[So take me woman]
>[Right now!]
>You let out a deep guttural groan as she plunges onto you. A sharp pain comes from your hips as she smashes her pelvis onto your own.
>You roll your eyes back, helpless to stop her tongue’s renewed vigour as it attacks your mouth and tongue into submission.
>The inside of her now deflowered maidenhead is too much. You can feel her use her muscles to tighten and milk you.
>Your hands still grabbed her sizeable rump, but once where they had a vice grip, now they felt aching and powerless against her constant humping.
>You couldn’t help but flinch and squirm as she ruts you, your hips already in pain after only such a short amount of time.
>But who were you to hate pain?
>With great difficulty you rouse yourself out of your euphoric lull and begin to thrust back into her.
>She could help but let out a grin, exposing all of her dangerous teeth.
>You wondered if she would leave another scar on your body.
>A memento of her love.
>Your hands leave her ass, finding an even better prize.
>They reach up and grab a meaty breast each, massaging the nips between the first and middle fingers.
>You can feel and hear her purr happily at your groping, leaning forward and shoving her chest right back into her face.
>She lets out a small scream as you clamp your jaws and teeth down hard on her nipple. Not bothering to restrain yourself.
>As you start to suckle she grabs your hair once again and forcibly pulls you away from your desire.
>You can see her smile is gone as she begins to pant. The rutting now beginning to affect her more and more.
>[P-play..n-nice] she manages to stammer out.
>[No.]
>You quickly put her teat back in your mouth, drunk and arrogant on her flesh.
>Her hand still had tight grip on your hair.
>But she didn’t stop you this time as you mauled her chest.
>You move your hands all along her back, wanting to explore and feel as much of her as possible.
>But you begin to hack and spittle forms at the corner of your mouth as the pain in your hips you had just grown accustom to spiked sharply.
>She was slamming down harder and your body.
>And faster.
>You look up at her in awe.
>It was a scandalous sight, her tongue lolled out of her mouth. She didn’t look at you but through you.
>Totally absorbed in her own pleasure, she probably didn’t even notice just how badly she was abusing your body.
>She had completely pinned you down and taken you by force .
>Her body craved your seed and the mere thought that she desired you to such an extent brought about that rising feeling.
>Finished exploring her body, you wrap yourself tightly around her waist in a bear hug, seemingly breaking her out of trance.
>It was coming…
>You feel her grip on your head tighten as she holds on for dear life.
>You could feel her getting tighter.
>She would take everything from you.
>[T-Tapeesa!] you cry out
>[Now! Give it to me now!]
>With that order you bury your face into her fury and yell as you orgasm inside her. Her entryway more like a vice grip as she squeezed every last ounce from you with one final slam onto your pelvis.
>You could only let out a quiet, pathetic moan as you felt the strength leave your arms and drop to the ground.
>You would have fallen back onto the blankets if not for Tapeesa still holding you.
>In your lucid mind, the image looked like a perversion of the Pieta.
>With an unexpected degree of tenderness, she lowers you onto the pelts.
>She slowly rises off of you, her warmth no longer protecting you from the cold air.
>You groan in genuine agony.
>The bones in your hips felt like they had been flattened a couple centimeters.
>Your eyelids flutter as you make out Tapeesa stripping off the last of her clothes.
>With a hard struggle and mild cursing you manage to do the same.
>You feel her collapse next to you, apparently just as exhausted as you.
>You never thought love making would be such strenuous work.
>You flail your arm around for the blanket and pull it over the two of you.
>[It’s cold] You complain.
>[The qulliq went out, we should light it.]
>Tapeesa slowly rolls over to face you.
>She weakly reaches out but is too weak to pull you into her embrace proper.
>You oblige and scoot into her arms.
>Her breathing is weak, maybe even slightly raspy.
>[Too tired to light it.] she manage to drool out.
>She begins to pet your hair, lulling you into a deep sleep.
>[You’ll be my qulliq instead.] 


>Another caravan of caribou had passed through the villages land.
>You hadn’t bothered hunting them.
>In fact you hadn’t left your hut for the past week.
>And neither had Tapeesa.
>Seven days of constant carnal knowledge.
>By the third day you couldn’t stand not being inside her and insisted on being so even after copulating.
>By the fifth day you were drench in each others scent.
>Then by the end of the week you both emerged, gasping for fresh air as the smell of sweat and sex overpowered the two of you.
>You had no idea how you would air your hut out.
>Either way you both resolved to run to the shoreline naked, trying your best to withstand the freezing air as you bolted to the ocean to wash the smell of egregious copulation.
>You couldn’t last in the water for more than a minute before you emerged, frightfully cold.
>Tapeesa came out shortly after you, equally cold.
>You both dash into her hut to dry off under her thick fur pelts.
>It was a stupid thing to do.
>But thankfully it was the evening so no one from the village would have spotted your naked bodies.
>But it wasn’t like this week was full of logical thinking to begin with.
>As Tapeesa lights the qulliq you tremble under the blankets, your body not taking kindly to the sudden temperature changes from warm to freezing and back to warmth once more.
>Your new mate wraps another pelt around herself, mindful not to touch you with her wet fur until she had dried herself.
>This Leopard seal had beaten your body badly.
>Mentally you had gotten used to the sharp pains of her pelvis bashing into yours.
>But that didn’t stop bruises swelling around your hip bones and her black and blue ‘love marks’ covering an obscene portion of your neck and chest.
>But it wasn’t as if she wasn’t worse for wear.
>On the sixth day of rutting you had opted to throw her onto her back and pin her knees next to her head.
>That was a good orgasm.
>Correction.
>Those were good orgasms.
>But now that the cold salt water and sobered the two of you out of your drunk lust you could actually reflect on the enormity of your choice.
>[Anon…] Tapeesa says as she holds her blanket around her shoulders.
>[I’ll most certainly be…with child.]
>You nod slowly, looking at the shadows of the lit qulliq dance across Tapeesa’s face.
>[Yeah] was all you could say.
>Maybe somewhere back int your hut, amidst all the shagging you had already accepted the outcome.
>Perhaps that was why the thought of a child didn’t impair you with an exaggerated sense of panic. The sort of thing you witnesses among soldiers when their wives (or mistresses) wrote from home.
>But you also weren’t inebriated with that sickening sense of joy you saw among other men at the news of prospective Fatherhood.
>Maybe you were an unfeeling, scorched hollow of a man.
>But to you, a child wasn’t a good or bad thing.
>It just was.
>[Are you going to leave me?]
>Your brow furrows and your eyes immediately shoot to Tapeesa’s
>Her black eyes flow from the qulliq’s flames.
>[No.] You say sternly [I wouldn’t abandon you.]
>She nods slowly, her body stiff has she lies down beside you.
>[I don’t..want your arms right now.]
>Before the pang of hurt can kick in, she explains.
>[If I hold you, I’ll want you and I’ll be on top of you again.]
>[Now that we may create life, we should be more…responsible and take break.]
>You nod slowly, suddenly feeling very cold all of a sudden.
>[Are you angry with me?] she asks
>You shake your head.
>[No, just a little chilly.]
>She pats the pelts beside her.
>[Please stay here, just don’t…]
>[I know] you say as you lay beside her, your back pressing up against hers.
>You let the cracklings of qulliq act as your lullaby, soothing you into a drowsy state.
>[Anon] you hear Tapeesa mumble.
>[What is it?] You ask groggily.
>[When we first met, I was twenty and twelve winters. Now I’m twenty and fourteen winters…I’m old for a mother.]
>You had to resist the urge to turn over and hug her.
>[You’ll be a fine parent] you say, trying to assure her.
>[Birth gets difficult the older you are.]
>[I’m scared] she lets out under a quiet breath.
>You exhale a low sigh.
>[I want to hold you and tell you it’ll all be okay. That I’ll take care of everything.]
>You can feel Tapeesa’s legs move her into the fetal position.
>[Not tonight.] She murmured.
>[But do it tomorrow.]


>It’s been a little over a month since your raunchy escapades.
>Winter came like a hammer to the skull.
>Last Winter the snowfall was gradual, as if acclimating you to the harsh weather that was to come.
>This time though it seemed the northern winds decided to start things off with a massive blizzard.
>And now with family of your own soon on the way, the stakes were only higher.
>There was no bump, but she was already suffering from various symptoms of pregnancy.
>Nausea, increased appetite, etc all the regulars.
>It only motivated you more on your hunting trips.
>You had more than made up for your week of carnality with seven dead bucks, a hoard of seals and only God knows how many fish.
>You had managed to keep your food stocks up while keeping Tapeesa fed.
>This would all be easier when she eventually moved into your hut.
>You stop in the midst of the snow storm.
>You see an outline of an animal but you can’t really make it out despite how close you were.
>Must have been another caribou you luckily snuck up on. The storm hiding you.
>As you sling your rifle off your shoulder you hear a noise emanating from the outline.
>A growl.
>Wait.
>Caribou don’t growl-
>OH SHIT!
>You knew you didn’t have time to raise your rifle properly as the wolf leapt at you.
>Operating from pure dormant muscle memory you swing the butt of your rifle into the beasts snarling jaws.
>You hear it yelp as the sturdy wooden frame of the gun chips a fang.
>If you had brought your bow instead, you would be dead right now.
>The wolf is knocked into the snow beside you, bloodying the snow from its head wound.
>Its body is massive.
>Easily six feet long.
>Width?
>You didn’t even want to think about it.
>All you knew is that they looked muscular underneath that white fur.
>As you level your barrel at the beast, it swipes a paw at your leg, throwing your aim off as the gun fires into a plume of snow. 
>The loud bang causes the beast to yelp in fright as it scrambles to get away.
>Startled from the whole experience, you let off another shot which was just as fruitless as the last one.
>You restrain yourself from firing a third. It had already escaped into the blinding storm.
>That was the second time you had miss one of them.
>“FUCK!” You scream, the first English word you had uttered in over a year.
>In a rage you throw your rifle onto the ground beneath your feet.
>You could feel your face getting red as you lost your temper.
>You were breathing hard and were too frazzled to stay focus for hunting.
>You grit your teeth as you pick up your weapon.
>Time to head home.

>You accept Yoskolo’s tea eagerly. Gulping down the burning liquid despite Asiaq’s admonishment for you to slow down.
>[For them to come in two adjacent Winters is unheard of] Yoskolo says worriedly.
>You could only nod as you finished your tea and asked for more.
>Right now you really wished these people had learned about alcohol.
>The tea wasn’t helping you calm down.
>It wasn’t helping you not be absolutely sickened with yourself.
>How could you have missed it twice in a span of ten seconds?
>How could you have let yourself gotten startled so badly?
>Would the you two years earlier have made the same mistakes?
>You had once fought against the hordes of savage men.
>Now you stumble and got spooked by animals.
>That answer was clear enough to you.
>Had such a short amount of time away from the military life really made you that helpless?
>Is this what you had to look forward to for the next decade?
>All the skills you had learned and honed would deteriorate?
>In parallel to your burgeoning family?
>And right at the moment when you needed them most?
>It was inexcusable!
>[Anon?]
>You turn sharply from your tea back Yoskolo, giving him a fright as you showered him in an unintentional glare.
>As hard as you try, you can’t soften your gaze.
>[Thank you for the tea. I must be going now.]
>You spoke tersely and quickly, the old seal and his wife not evening having time to say goodbye before you were out of their hut.
>Like a angry toddler you stomped back to your hut.
>You had told Tapeesa you would visit her this evening.
>But you were in no mood for company on this night.
>You drop your rifle to the side as you enter your abode.
>The first thing you do is shed off your clothes.
>You ignore the cold winter air battering your skin as you light the qulliq.
>As the flames begin to grow you stick your fingers only just above, absorbing the burning tingling sensation as your fingertip become red and raw from the heat.
>When?
>When did you start to lose it?
>Maybe it was a good thing to lose.
>You weren’t a soldier anymore after all.
>But what did that mean?
>Did that mean that those ten years were a complete waste?
>Had you dedicated your entire youth to something fruitless?
>It all ended badly. But did it negate your time in Sudan? Or China as wretched as it had gotten?
>Had you wasted your life up to this point?
>Was throwing all of that away? Becoming slower and weaker in the process, worth it?
>No!
>That was ego talking. Trying to justify your life as if it was some glorious past written by a long dead poet.
>You should have known better than that.
>You didn’t need to justify anything in your life. You would never apologize for a single action or choice you had made.
>If anything you would berate yourself for not doing more.
>And at this moment you knew it was true.
>You did lose it.
>That singular core part of you.
>It was ugly and it was vicious and it was lonely.
>Perhaps you wouldn’t wish it upon anyone else on this earth.
>But it was what made you, you.
>You thought of Tapeesa, pregnant with your child.
>That was why you couldn’t lose it.
>To protect her and the life that grew within.
>You pull your hand back from the flames tips, the cold air soothing the red, swollen fingers.
>You had grown too content these past two years.
>Maybe that would have been okay before, but now things were different.
>You had a child that would look up to you and call you Father.
>It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad.
>It just was.
>And you had to do everything in your power to protect and nurture it.
>Even if it hurt you more than you could possibly endure.


>You light the qulliq as Tapeesa vomits into a nearby bowl.
>She had been like this most of the day.
>It was the rather noxious combination of craving food but not being able to keep most of it down.
>Not even the tea was making her feel better.
>Even after she finishes she still hangs her head over the bowl, panting loudly.
>You reach over to her and carefully wrap your hand around her brow, supporting her head as you pull her back.
>[This child is troublesome] she grumbles.
>[They usually are] you reply.
>You stand up and take the soiled bowl and begin to head outside.
>[I’m gonna empty this] you say plainly [when I come back I’ll cook up some dinner]
>[No.] she says grumpily, reaching for the dried caribou meat. [I’ll cook for us.]
>[You should lie down] you respond frowning.
>[I’m pregnant, not useless!] she snaps, losing her temper briefly before softening.
>She looked like she wanted to apologize.
>Before she can you leave the hut.
>There was no need for her to say sorry. 
>Mood swings and general unpleasantness came with pregnancies.
>You understood this wasn’t exactly a fun experience for her.
>You walk a good distance from the hut.
>You didn’t exactly want the smell of bile anywhere near the hut
>But you drop the bowl and it’s contents spill and taint the white snow.
>You heard a shrieking scream coming from the village.
>Followed by the loud snarls and howls of wolves.
>You curse as you run towards the tribe.
>The lack of weapons not stopping you from charging forward.
>That scream was clearly the sound of a female.
>By the time you get there, the wolves had been driven off
>But you still heard the shrieking.
>One of the seals, was hunched over in the snow.
>To describe it as bawling or sobbing wouldn’t be accurate.
>It was a sound you had heard often in china.
>The screams of a parent who had lost their children.
>In a few minutes your guess was proved correct.
>The wolves had come and ripped a seal cub away from one of the females and quickly ran off.
>There was no use chasing them now.
>The child was already dead.
>And that was what it took to get these anthros to show emotion in public.
>Losing their offspring.
>A male leopard seal, presumably a family member or husband gently raises her to her feet and takes her out of sight.
>A reversal of last year’s wolf attack where it was the wife comforting the husband.
>You imagined what would happened if Tapeesa shared that fate.
>If you lost your child to the harshness of this land.
>The nightmares would never stop.
>They would plague you every night for the rest of your life.
>You slowly exhale, watching the fog rise out of your mouth.
>You knew what needed to be done.

>You enter Yoskolo’s hut.
>Normally you would be invited before entering the home of the elder.
>But this was an abnormal situation.
>Even so, the mood of the old hut was too somber for the old couple to protest.
>The loss of a child of the village hit hard.
>There were never that many to begin with.
>[Ah, Anon] was all the ancient seal could muster.
>You sit down across from him.
>[I need to borrow a few things. Will you allow it?]
>You seem to break his depressive trance with the assertiveness of your question.
>[What do you need? And why?]
>You remember when you were stationed in China, ammunition was running low for your soldiers.
>So you decided to improvise by digging a set of pits lined with sharpened bamboo. 
>Over four dozen pits needed to be dug for a “positive outcome”.
>When you gave your superior officer the battle report.
>You had a look in your eye.
>The same one you were giving Yoskolo.
>[Two axes of stone, and a single wooden spear] you say clearly but quietly.
>[I’m going hunting.]
>Despite the increasingly severe cataracts that hampered Yoskolo’s sight
>In this moment, he could clearly see your intentions.
>[You march against Amaroq. That is an foolish endeavour.]
>[Then how will the wolves be dealt with?]
>[We will endure this Winter, in Spring and Summer we will build barricades in preparation.]
>[And what of when you go out an hunt? Will you contend to be harassed by them]
>[You will die if you do this. Think of Tapeesa and your child.]
>[I am.]
>He sighs, you see the worry on his wife’s face as he rests his head in his fin.
>[When are you heading out?]
>[Today.]
>[What?! but it’s already mid-afternoon! It’ll be getting dark soon.]
>[That’s fine.]
>He nods slowly.
>He knew you would leave anyway.
>[I’ll give you what you need.]
>You bow your head, offering his thanks.
>He doesn’t care for your platitudes.
>[Are all of your people as ferocious as you?] he suddenly asks.
>You think back to your time in the prison in London.
>They had jailed you for a year, denying you bathing and a change of clothes.
>You had gotten so filthy that red sores had started to appear on your body.
>They had caged you like a rabid animal, afraid to let you loose.
>[No] you replied.
>[No they are not.]



>I yawn as I wake up.
>I blink, realizing I had fallen asleep waiting for Anon.
>I can’t help but let out a little pout as I see the meal I left for him lay there, having gone cold.
>Then again he was always was strange, and I’m not just talking about appearance.
>Sure his smaller, furless frame was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
>His face was the polar opposite of my own people. It was sometimes difficult to look at him as handsome.
>Honestly when I first met him I didn’t think much of him.
>He was aloof, grouchy, small and always seemed to prefer his own company to that of others.
>But then I saw the other side of him.
>The warrior.
>The man with a hundred scars, all gotten from his own kind.
>I could slowly feel his power and his dominance seduce me.
>And the best part was he wasn’t even aware of it.
>He was always the same aloof distant person, unaware of his influence.
>It would make me want him more.
>The only thing that gave me pause was the darkness I sense around him.
>Every now and then you could see it in his eyes.
>Like the first time I met him, when I still saw him as a mild curiosity.
>For a brief moment I saw evil in his eyes.
>It made me shiver as I turned to say goodbye.
>And I wondered how such a small looking creature could have such a dreadful presence.
>But those questions left as quick as they came.
>Because he gave me the sole privilege of seeing the warrior vulnerable.
>I was the only one worthy of feeling him press up against my body while he was deep in slumber.
>Only I breathed heavy when I felt his face snuggle into my bosom.
>Only I heard him cry out in the dark when he was beset by one of his dreams.
>What he dreamed of he would never tell me.
>I could only guess that he lived a hard life.
>But like any true warrior he could withstand it and beat it.
>That was why I made him my mate.
>That was why he would be the Father of my child.
>I turn as I hear someone enter my hut.
>I could tell it was Anon by the stomping of his boots.
>My eyes widened as I gazed up at him.
>His entire body was bundled in thick caribou pelts.
>Even his mouth was obscured.
>The only part of him that I could see into were those eyes that could frighten me so.
>Attached to his belt were two axes..
>Slung on his back were his spear and his loud long weapon that he called a “rifle”
>In his hands was a small sack.
>[This food should last you awhile] he said coldly [So you won’t have to forage yourself while I’m away.]
>My heart raced.
>I remember the promise he made me.
>Was he breaking it so soon?!
>He must had seen the flash of anger on my face.
>[I’m going hunting. I won’t be back for sometime]
>I blinked at him.
>[Then you’ll be back this evening?] it wasn’t a question really. More of a statement I thought was factual.
>He shook his head at me.
>[No. This is a long hunt. I will be gone for awhile.]
>I could feel the panic rising in my throat.
>He sounded nothing like the man I had mated with.
>This Anon sounded harsh and cruel.
>He was always a distant person. He loved solitude.
>But now he seemed leagues away from me, with walls built up all around him.
>Though he stood before me, I couldn’t reach out.
>I couldn’t hug him to my bosom.
>Or feel his breath on my nose.
>Something in my soul told me I lost him.
>[H-how long?] I managed to stammer out.
>[I don’t know.] He replied.
>He was so cold.
>The storm outside felt like a fire in comparison.
>It made me afraid of him for the first time.
>[I’m going now.]
>I needed to stop him, to ask him a million questions.
>Like where was he going?
>Or why was he going out for a long hunt?
>Couldn’t he find prey in less than a day? He wasn’t a poor hunter.
>And why was he doing it in the Winter storm? He would freeze to death!
>Why?
>Why was he like this all of a sudden.
>Was he always like this?
>What did I actually know about him?
>I knew… nothing.
>Had I…made a mistake?
>Did I misjudge him?
>I wanted to scream all these questions at him.
>And I wanted him to hold me like before and reassure me that all my worries were the silly musings of a hysterical pregnant female.
>I wanted him to answer all my questions and let me know everything was alright.
>But…
>But I didn’t do any of that.
>I didn’t even say goodbye to him.
>I merely nodded my head as he turned and left.
>And it was only later I found out what happened.
>It was only later I found out what he was going to do.
>That was when I realized I made the biggest mistake of my life by not keeping him here, with me.
>For the first time since I was expelled from my own village, I cried.
>I sobbed bitterly, cursing Anon with every gasp and spilled tear.
>He committed a crime against me.
>My first husband-to-be may have died.
>But now Anon willingly marched towards his death and he was leaving me to care for our child alone.
>He would walk right into the jaws of Amaroq without thinking of what it meant for me.
>I cried myself to sleep. In a breath I would utter every horrible thing I could about him.
>Then in another I would hug my blankets, desperately pretending it was him I was holding.
>I would wake up to the sound of his rifle, booming and echoing in the distance.
>I froze in the chilly blackness of my hut. Fearful of what the dark hid from me.
>I then heard it again.
>I wrapped my blankets around my shoulders and slowly walked outside.
>The wind beat my face and the snow stuck to my whiskers like icicles.
>It was so dark and stormy that I couldn’t even see my hand in front of me.
>I heard his rifle once more echoing across the landscape far away.
>The wind carried the sound to me, a twisted reminder that he was still alive.
>But then my mood turned even darker when I heard it no more.
>It meant he was either done
>Or than he was no longer with me.
>I retired back inside, my hand and feet numb from the cold.
>I lit the qulliq to protect me from the night I now dreaded more than anything else.
>With that one, fragile piece of safety I fell back asleep.

>On the second day he didn’t return.
>The village heard his rifle four times throughout the morning and afternoon.
>It felt like a cruel punishment for me.
>As if for a brief moment I could finally accept that he had passed and I could move on, only to hear another loud crack from his rifle out there, somewhere in the deep of the frozen wilderness.
>And I would get hit with a pang of hope that felt as if I was being stabbed in my heart.
>He’s alive! He’s Alive! Thank the Gods he’s still alive!
>But then that hope would turn into despair as all became deadly quiet.
>And I would cry again, damning him with my tears because he wasn’t in my bed.
>But after I was spent I could begin to feel myself heal from the wound his loss inflicted on me.
>I was formulating a plan on how I could raise our cub by myself, and the more I thought the more optimistic I became about the future.
>Then I would hear his damn rifle again! And all that awful hope would come rushing back into my soul.
>It was agony.
>The third day was more of the same torture.
>I stayed inside, throwing the blankets over head, trying to shield myself from this horror.
>But the truth was I didn’t know a thing about what horror was.
>On the fourth day it went quiet.
>The village heard nothing all morning or afternoon.
>Was it…all over?
>With great effort I hoisted myself up from my hut and headed to the village to deliver some clothes I had finished making earlier.
>The other women thanked me and gave me some seal fat and dried berries in return.
>They said the fruit helped with any sickness from the pregnancy and was good for the cub.
>I knew all they wanted was to help me.
>But I hated the pity in their voices.
>They knew just as much as I did.
>My mate was gone, removed from this earth only a short time after we had joined.
>What a silly little seal I must be for choosing a mate who would die so quickly.
>Maybe I truly was cursed.
>We all flinch when we heard the rifle.
>But this time I let out a little yelp.
>His rifle…
>He was close by!
>My mate was near!
>I hear the yells of the males.
>Despite the other females protest, I immediately dash outside.
> I could hear the howls of the wolves as I ran with the males outside of the village.
>I don’t think any of them even noticed I was there.
>But these howls weren’t ones of ferocious predators.
>But of scared animals.
>Suddenly the howling of the wolves stops.
>And all we can hear is the howling of the wind.
>Which somehow seemed worse.
>Suddenly we come across one of the wolves only a small distance from us. A massive beast with a thick coat of fur hiding powerful muscles.
>It’s limping with an injured hind leg.
>That was when I saw it.
>When we all saw it.
>The other bodies, half buried in the snow.
>It was a tomb of mangled corpses, bellies split open, skulls shattered, and limps hacked off.
>I even spotted a few of the younger pups, their terrified expressions frozen in place as their heads jutted out of the packed snow.
>The blood became red and black ice that formed a slick layer over the sullied white ground.
>Did Anon do…all of this?
>It was a gruesome scene.
>It made me sick.
>Suddenly I spot a figure dashing towards the wounded wolf.
>It leaps at the maimed beast, bending its knees and kicking its legs up behind its back as it pounces on its targets.
>Once I saw the axes in each hand.
>I knew
>It was him.
>I feel my heart, which for the past few days had been in my throat and in my tears, now drop in the pit of my stomach as I watched his weapons of terror dig into the skull of the wolf.
>The creature didn’t even let out a cry of pain. It merely slumped over as its shattered skull and ripped flesh produced pink, pulpy gore.
>Not bearing to look at the sickening sight, I turned to Anon, his back against me.
>His clothes were in tatters, shredded and torn, there were segments of the pelts so badly mangled I could see his bare skin showing, now red from exposure to the cold.
>His spear was gone and his rifle now slung carelessly over his shoulder.
>Our entire group is speechless as we look upon him, only to be startled by another wolf, darting from out of nowhere towards Anon.
>Before he can react the beast jumps on his back, it’s four legs wrapping around him, putting all of it’s weight on him to try to pin him to the ground.
>But it doesn’t work, he remains standing as he carries the wolf’s weight.
>He yells out in pain as it sinks its teeth into his shoulder. As if it was trying to rip the whole arm off from the blade of his shoulder.
>He drops his axes and reaches behind him, wrapping his hands around the beast.
>With strength that I don’t think even a seal would have, he rips the wolf off and throws it over his shoulder.
>I hear the crack as one of its legs break at the impact.
>It seemed Anon wished to replicate the wolf as he jumps on its back.
>I cringe and squirm as I see him position himself just above the wolf’s skull.
>He shoves both of his hands on either side of its muzzle.
>I try desperately to resist the urge to throw up as I hear Anon let out a terrible warcry.
>He begins to pull up prying the mouth open.
>I notice that two of his fingers are pierced by the fangs underneath.
>They are only attached to his hand by a few strings of muscle.
>Now I can hear the wolf let out the sounds of loud, desperate mewling as it tries to throw Anon off.
>My body can no longer take the scene as I drop to my knees and vomit out bile.
>How much longer would this snow be defiled I wondered.
>I finally hear the crackings of bone as the wolf begins to shriek and flail violently.
>He had pried the beasts mouth beyond it’s hinges and snapped the mouth in half.
>All while screaming, not stopping once to take in more air.
>It was only when the wolf’s life was taken and its horrible cries stopped suddenly was when Anon calmly moved off its back.
>And he turned around to face us.
>And I saw those awful, dark eyes in full force with no restraints
>And I couldn’t help but start to cry.
>Because I did indeed make a terrible mistake.
>I misjudged him so severely.
>He hadn’t done battle with Amaroq.
>He was Amaroq.
>A Monster.
>And he was the Father of my child.


Chapter Two: Kingdom of Heaven


>A room both sterile and dirty.
>Ah
>You’re here again.
>What a familiar little setting.
>You see her, as she always was: in her bed covered in a wool blanket.
>Her large round ears flicker and twitch.
>Her brownish-red eyes stare blankly at the wall.
>By this point she had tuned the entire world out of her mind.
>For the reality was too horrible to tolerate.
>“Ek's honger” she says weakly.
>“Ek is jammer” you reply weakly, that feeling of powerlessness growing within.
>“Is daar niks om te eet nie?” the small canine asks without a hint of hope in her voice.
>“Rantsoene is gesny” you explain pathetically “Die hospitaal sal nie toelaat dat my bring enige kos in”
>She tries to nod but is too weak to even do that.
>All she can is hibernate. Waiting ever so patiently for the nightmare to end.
>Must every time you come here be nothing but a repeat?
>Is there anything that can change? Any illusionary solitude you can find here?
>What’s the point of this horror?
>To make you understand?
>You already understood!
>You just wanted to change it.
>Even if it wasn’t real.
>Just give you the feeling.
>The feeling that you actually did the right thing!
>Even if it isn’t true.
>You feel something warm in your hand.
>You look down.
>It’s a bowl of meat broth.
>It’s aroma could only be described as perfect.
>Had you finally begged and pleaded long enough that pity was taken upon you?
>You quickly rush over to the little girl.
>“Ek mis Mamma?” she utters quietly.
>You were still confined to the basic rules of this place.
>You still had to say your lines, follow the script.
>But that doesn’t mean you had to act on them.
>“Ek weet” you reply as you lift the spoon to her mouth.
>In this little bubble of nonexistence
>She would be cared for.
>“Was ek nou 'n slegte meisie?” she asks.
>Just ignore it.
>Just keep feeding her.
>“Wat? Nee, jy het 'n baie goeie meisie was. Hoekom sou jy dit dink?” you reply as you dip the ladle back into the broth.
>The words were shallow. A cheap imitation.
>It was your actions that mattered.
>You pour the broth once more past her lips.
>“Want Pappa moes my gered. Maar hy moet dink ek is 'n slegte meisie en nie meer wil hê ek.”
>You can feel and hear your head screaming. Your skull itself vibrates from the shrieks.
>“Dis nie waar nie. Jou pa is nog daar buite. Hy sal vir jou kom. Wag net 'n bietjie langer.”
>You can feel yourself become physically sick from your words.
>You see in her eyes that she doesn’t believe your words.
>How could she?
>You feel your shoe become warm and wet.
>You look down and cry out in horror.
>It was the broth you had been feeding her.
>It went through her body.
>Through her bed.
>And pooled up around your boots, mocking you.
>Because your words did matter, because those actually happened.
>Whatever you tried to do to mitigate them was a lie, a falsehood that never actually happened.
>Even in your dreams that theoretically were never tied to reality, you could not escape this.
>In the depths of your slumber you would find no solace.
>Her eyes slowly move towards you, like that of a chameleon.
>She offers you a low, toothy grin.
>Wait
>This isn’t part of the script.
>What’s happening-
>“There is no hope for you.”
>“No one will understand you. Nor will they want to.”
>“Why would anyone want understand your sickness?”
>“Does one understand a foaming, rabid dog?”
>“What is there to understand? Other than it needs to be put down.”
>“That is you. And it was entirely your own choice.”
>“Now live with it. Unlike a rabid dog, you don’t even deserve pity.”
>“All you deserve is your cold cave with your ravenous eyes looking out upon the world to feast on.”
>“For I know”
>“What you are”


>You open your eyes. Slowly adjusting to the real world.
>Even the dim light of the fading qulliq hurt your eyes.
>You groan as you try to rise up.
>You feel a hand press down on your chest, forcing you back into the blankets.
>You look up and see Tapeesa, kneeling above you.
>[Do not get up] She says severely.
>[You wounds will reopen if you do.]
>So that’s what that ache in your shoulder was.
>It must have come from the bite mark from before.
>You also feel a stinging tingly sensation from your left hand.
>You look down and see that the pinky and ring fingers are missing.
>All that was left were scarred stumps.
>[There wasn’t much left] she explained [so we made a clean cut.]
>[Just another scar, right?] you grunt out
>She only lets out a small, uneasy [yes].
>What is this?
>Why does the hut feel so tense and sad?
>You don’t remember anything after you killed the last wolf, your mind had finally blacked out after days of abuse by the weather and from the hunt itself.
>You only survived the cold nights by digging deep into the snow and earth like an animal. Just barely shielding yourself from the environment.
>You had torn off many of your fingers nails from all the digging you had done.
>Patches of your body were red and raw from the painful blasts of wind that had battered you.
>Everything hurt.
>But nothing hurt more than Tapeesa’s silence.
>Or the fact that she was sitting attentively by your side instead of laying with you as usual.
>[You must be cold] You say, trying to coax her to join you [get under the blankets.]
>You frown as she shakes her head.
>[No. You shouldn’t be disturbed.]
>[You aren’t disturbing me] you say, pushing the subject.
>She looks away from you, turning towards the qulliq
>And the way out.
>[I have to go.] she says [Make sure you rest at least until tomorrow.]
>[You can stay the night.] You protest, feeling confused.
>Why was she acting like this?
>[No. I have chores I need to do. I’ll come visit tomorrow evening.]
>You hated that word, visit.
>Because it implied she wouldn’t be staying.
>Before you can say anything she is out the door.
>Back to how you were before.
>Alone.

>Tapeesa continued to be distant from you.
>She would stop by your hut, quietly dress your wounds and watch you eat then leave just as rigidly as she came.
>It was becoming unbearable.
>So one day you got dressed and limped over to her hut.
>Your body still sore, your joints still rattled painfully.
>But you didn’t care.
>This was just a mere discomfort compared to what you endured before.
>You take a deep breath as you walk into her hut.
>You see her kneeling over the fire, her eyes darting quickly to you.
>Like you were a predator.
>[What are you doing here?] she asked, angry and startled.
>[I came to see you.] You said, sounding cold and hurt.
>[I am busy. And you should still be resting.]
>[You were never this busy before.] You grinded your teeth [In fact you got angry when I didn’t come often enough.]
>[Perhaps you didn’t notice that I am with child now.] She shot back, vitriol in her voice.
>[That didn’t stop you before.]
>She eyes you closely as you walk over to her.
>[Tapeesa please, why are you acting like this?]
>You reach your arm out to her shoulder.
>But she flinches away from you and smacks your hand back.
>[Don’t touch me!]
>The force of her strike makes you lose your balance as you fall back onto the floor.
>She looks down on you, those black eyes that once had so much love and care, were not full of shock and fear.
>The revelation hit you harder than those Winter winds.
>“You saw” you mumbled out in English
>“You saw everything.”

>You and Tapeesa sit on a large boulder by the shoreline. 
>You both looked out as the tide was slowly rolling in, threatening to finally tickle your feet.
>[I don’t want to live with you.] She said.
>[We should have our own separate huts. We live close by so it’ll be easy to share the cub.]
>[Okay.] You said slowly, focusing on a small fish that was swimming dangerously close to the ocean’s edge.
>[But I want you to stay with me when the cub is close to delivery] You added in [That way you won’t be alone if it comes unexpectedly.]
>Tapeesa could only nod her head at your requirement for this new arrangement.
>She didn’t like it, but she wouldn’t argue with you on that point.
>[I’ll come by your hut to give you meat and seal fat. I’ll also bring those plants for that tea if you get sick.]
>She nods again at this, not giving you the benefit of hearing her say yes or no.
>Did she really hate you that much now?
>[It is good…] she finally said [that we talked like this.]
>[Yeah…] you could only respond. It all felt like a cheap joke.
>[I thought you would be more angry with me.]
>You turn to face her, as you sit up from the boulder.
>[When you first saw my body, you were in love with it. Were you not?]
>She looks away from you, staring down at her feet.
>[You saw all those scars and only saw what you wanted to see, and not what it was.]
>[I even tried to warn you. But you didn’t listen.]
>You could see the tears welling up in her eyes. But you didn’t care.
>It didn’t matter how big her belly was getting.
>This was your chance to twist the knife and you were going to take it.
>[The only person here who should be angry, is you at yourself for not listening to me.]
>You walk past her, her throat begins to make small hiccup noises to gag the sobs.
>[All I feel is foolishness for believing anything you said.]
>You finally hear her cover her eyes and let out a sob.
>You didn’t care.
>If she wanted to be alone, if she was so repulsed by you, fine.
>But that meant she had to cry alone too.
>You feel the dirt crunch beneath your boots as you walk back to your hut.
>Your whole body felt stiff and restrained.
>It was as if ten years had been shaved off of your life in one fell swing.
>But was it really her fault?
>You had made the mistake of thinking you could interact with others.
>That you could fall in love and have a relationship.
>That you could be normal.
>But that was a delusion.
>People don’t change.
>Just because you cloaked yourself in the harshness of this land, didn’t mean that you could hide the universal truth about your character.
>You had forgotten that and taken the temporary solace in a lover’s arms for granted.
>But once the wool was pulled away from their eyes, how could they see you as such a thing?
>Could you blame Tapeesa for fearing you? Rejecting you?
>It’s what any sane person would do.
>And you remembered what your told yourself before you went hunting wolves.
>You would protect and provide for your family.
>Even if the cost to yourself was more than you thought you could bear.
>Even if they hated and feared you.
>That was your decision and you would live with it.
>That thought ruminated in your mind when you entered your hut.
>But it didn’t prevent you from kicking your qulliq over.
>Nor did it stop you falling on your knees and slamming the dirt, your tears staining your cheeks.
>Never again would you warm her bed.
>Never again would she hold you to her chest as you woke up from a nightmare.
>You would never want the comfort of another woman.
>And you would never again have the warmth of the one you desired most.
>You would always be alone.


>[This cub needs to leave.] Tapeesa complained [It makes me have to urinate often.]
>You roll your eyes as you pull the meat from the qulliq.
>[It’ll be over soon, it shouldn’t be more than a week.]
>Spring had just started and the Leopard seal’s belly had swollen and stretched out much further.
>And as per her agreement she moved into your hut at the beginning of the month.
>You both slept on separate beds of furs on opposite ends of the hut.
>[It is heavy, I can feel it kicking and squirming constantly.]
>You pull the charred meat away from the qulliq and hand it to her.
>For the past few months she had been craving burnt and blacked meat.
>That even included fish, which she normally preferred raw or frozen.
>[May I?] you ask, gesturing towards her belly.
>She greedily takes the food from your hands and is already pressing one of the chunks into her maw.
>She looks at you nervously, thinking about whether or not to deny you.
>[Go ahead] she finally answers.
>You nod a thanks as you slowly place your hands over her engorged belly.
>You run your hands over it as if it were a crystal ball of sorts.
>Even through her thick fur you can feel the vibrations from the life that dwelled within.
>[It’s practically swimming around in there.] You say.
>Your hands flinch away as you feel a kick.
>[Put your head against it] she says calmly.
>You look up to her, surprised that she would even ask something like that.
>[Tell me what you hear] she explains.
>You gently lean in to her belly, pressing your ear into the warm fur.
>It was akin to holding a conch shell up to your ear.
>You wrap your arms around her to leverage yourself.
>She squirms but doesn’t resist you.
>[I hear…] you begin
>[I hear water swirling, and I hear it sloshing about.]
>You dig the side of your face further against her belly.
>She lets out a small groan of discomfort but you ignore her.
>[And I hear…]
>[A heartbeat I think.]
>You pull back when you feel a kick against your head.
>Tapeesa giggles.
>[I think you intruded too far.]
>You rub the side of your head as Tapeesa noisily eats.
>That kick felt like a bolt of electricity had impaled your head and dissipated as it ran down your spine.
>And every nerve in your body was plagued with the jitters.
>Tapeesa makes a quiet yelp when you lightly lean your head and chest against her. Using her pregnant belly as a pillow.
>[Please…] You beg.
>[Just let me stay here for awhile.]
>You don’t look up at her, but you can hear her sigh out an annoyed compliance.
>She didn’t like it, but she would tolerate it.
>[Okay.]
>It was a cheap imitation of what you had before.
>But with her fur on your face and the warmth of the fire against your back.
>It was the best you could hope for.
>You had wanted to fall asleep right then and there.
>But you knew that wouldn’t happen.
>Eventually she would shoo you off and say she was tired.
>She would drift into her pelts and fall asleep while you crawled into your makeshift bed on the other side.
>And you would wish you hadn’t been so spoiled by the company of another.

>It’s the middle of the night when you feel yourself slowly grumbling out of bed.
>The hell? Why were you waking up so early?
>In those first few seconds as you wake up all your senses are foggy.
>Your vision is blurry and all you can hear are loud muffles.
>[Wh-Wha?] you let out as you rub your eyes.
>All you wanted to do was go back to sleep.
>But finally your senses kicked in properly.
>And the resulting noise, as low as it was felt like an explosion had gone off.
>[Anon!] You hear [Anon, wake up!]
>You rush out of your blankets as you hear the panic in Tapeesa’s voice.
>[What is it? What’s wrong?]
>As you put your hands on her pelts, you already knew.
>They were soaked and reeked of bodily fluids.
>Her water had broken.
>You could see her eyes glow in the darkness of your hut.
>They looked afraid.
>[Here.] You state calmly [Sit up against the wall at an angle. It’ll make you more comfortable than lying flat on your back.]
>She nods as you slide your arms under her and maneuver her into the position.
>[I’m going to light the qulliq and get you some clean pelts.]
>[Do you have fresh water?] She asks anxiously.
>You nod you had gone out days earlier to the river and stocked up on water before hand.
>[Can I have some?]
>[I can make you some tea if you-
>[No. I just want some water.]
>You nod as you reach over and pull at a small flask pouch made from seal skin.
>Her tone and body language consistently gave off fear and panic.
>You couldn’t really blame her. She was an older woman, the birthing process might not be the smoothest or the quickest.
>[If you want, I can head out and have Asiaq come over-]
>[No!] She protested firmly [I don’t want to be left alone.]
>The terror in her voice was becoming more prevalent.
>You could feel her breathing heavier, practically panting like a dog.
>You move over to her and cup her cheek in your hand.
>She timidly looks up at you.
>[I won’t leave] You say, affirming your earlier promise.
>[Now calm down. Chances are it’s going to be a long night. I need you to be more relaxed. Okay?]
>She lets out a little nod, like that of a child before you pull your hand away.
>[You just stay there, I need to heat up some water.]
>As you turned your back to her it seemed as if the whole world slowed around you.
>It even began to revolve around you.
>As you poured another skin flask of water into a clay pot, it sounded more like a river breaking through a damn.
>And the small clinking noises made from positioning the pot above the qulliq felt like the slashing rattles of two swords.
>and the fire itself, contained in such a little bowl, felt like the whipping flames of some biblical burning.
>The bubbles boiling in the pot reminded you of a steamy, humid bog somewhere in China.
>It was as if you mind expanded to the brink of what you were capable of withstanding.
>And all your movements seemed so slow and methodical to you.
>Moving your arms or your torso was no longer an unconscious motor movement.
>But something you had to constantly think about, something you had to actually will into existence.
>It made everything seem much more convoluted than it needed to be.
>Finally you feel yourself sucked back into reality as Tapeesa speaks.
>[I’m sorry.]
>You turn to look at her.
>She was crying.
>[I really am truly sorry.]
>You dart out towards her and cup her muzzle into your hands.
>You lean down and kiss her brow.
>You had left her sobbing alone before.
>That was because you had both abandoned each other as lovers.
>But this wasn’t a lover’s kiss.
>But one from one parent to another.
>[You have nothing to apologize to me for.]
>You thumb the tears away from her cheek. Her fur now dark and wet.
>[Now I need you to do as I say and keep calm, alright?]
>She nods slowly, blinking away the last of her tears.
>[Okay. I’m going to have to take off your pants.]
>She nods again, this time more apprehensively.
>She must have been embarrassed. Her pants were soiled in urine and birthing fluids.
>And they were actually difficult to get off her wide hips due to how wet they were.
>Tapeesa looks away in abashment as you take a knife and carefully slice through the fabric and peel it away.
>It’s not like with the amount of fluids on it that it was still wearable.
>You take the bundle of sullied cloth and toss it out of the hut to be rid of the scent.
>You fumble around your hut, trying to find….
>Ah there it is.
>You pull out a small piece of seal pelt.
>The irony is not lost on you as you dunk it in the warm water and you look up at your Leopard Seal mate:
>[I’m going to clean you a bit.]
>She acquiesces as you begin to thoroughly scrub her legs, making sure to be extra gentle when you approached her nether regions.
>[I can feel it] she stammers [It’s moving around more and-AH!]
>You place your hand firmly on her abdomen to steady her and prevent her from squirming around too much.
>You could feel the contractions begin to happen.
>[Is it coming out?] She asks in between her pained gasps
>[No] You say, taking a separate rag and running it over her face to cool her off.
>[It probably won’t be out for some time.]
>[What a troublesome child] she responds, sucking in the air between her teeth as the contraction washes over her entire body.
>You splash the rag back into the pot of water before running it over her exposed belly.
>[It’s probably going to just be like this for awhile. Once it starts becoming more frequent is when it’ll be time to deliver.]
>[How do you know all of this?] She asks exasperated.
>You just shrug it off [I know a lot of things.]
>The actual reason was that when Peking was being sacked and looted after the Boxers were defeated, you had gotten your hands on a small amount of scrolls you read to practice your Mandarin Chinese.
>All these scrolls just happened to be on the techniques of midwifery.
>At the time it was most boring thing you could have read, only bothering to because in a burning destroyed city it was the best thing you could get your hands on to hone your language skills.
>Who knew less than four years later you would actually use that knowledge?
>[You should try to get some sleep] You say as you wring out the excess water from the rag.
>[If you want I can cook you some caribou too.]
>[How am I supposed to sleep with this constant pressure?] She huffs
>You bring the cloth just under the crook of her neck, she sighs approvingly as you wash away the excess dirt and sweat buildup.
>[I know but just try] You ask firmly. [Are you hungry?]
>She shakes her head.
>[All of this pain has killed my hunger.]
>You let out a loud yawn, being woken up in the middle of the night was starting to have an effect on you.
>But it wasn’t like you could actually go to sleep anyway.
>[Get some rest] you say [I’ll be awake if anything happens.]
>Despite Tapeesa’s grumbling, you managed to get her to drink some tea which made her drowsy.
>You soon heard the satisfied rumblings of her breathing as she slept.
>Who knew how long that would last though.
>The next contraction would jolt her awake real quick.
>But right now all was quiet.
>All was peaceful.
>You stand and walk over to the edge of the Hut’s entrance.
>You gaze out at the land and ocean before you.
>It was Spring now but you brought yourself back to memories and feelings of the Winter.
>It felt more natural to you than the pleasant Spring.
>You remember when you would trek out to some spot in a blizzard and just huddle there, basking in the savagery of Mother Nature.
>It was something you felt permanently bonded to.
>But it was also something you couldn’t give in to anymore.
>Not with a child on the way.
>It made you feel sad.
>Others would reminisce on lost loves, or time spent with friends and family.
>What did you think about? What did you yearn for?
>Those moments where you could abandon your humanity?
>Why?
>Why couldn’t you be normal?
>Why did you feel the urge to direct your life in such a manner?
>You abandoned a peaceful happy existence.
>You weren’t capable of being a husband, or even having a long love life.
>But could you…
>Could you be a Father?
>Would your innate wretched soul permit such a thing?
>You make a silent prayer to God.
>Begging it to be so.
>Your thoughts are cut short by Tapeesa.
>She lets out a sharp cry as she sucks in air.
>You quickly dash over to her and put your hand on her abdomen.
>Another contraction.
>But this one was lasting longer.
>And from Tapeesa’s reaction, much more intense.
>She couldn’t even properly speak at this point.
>Just a lot of loud groans and rolling on her hips in a vain attempt to minimize the pain.
>You place your hands on the sides of her waist, making her stop squirming.
>She grabs your hand and squeezes.
>You could feel your knuckles and fingers cracking from her grip.
>[It hurts] she manages to let out.
>[I know] you say as you take your other hand-the one missing two fingers- and gently pet and thumb over her fin.
>[It should be over soon.]
>You were wrong.
>Well actually that contraction did end soon enough.
>But another one quickly came, just a few minutes after the first one.
>They normally didn’t occur that rapidly.
>Unless…
>[The baby is coming!] You say as you let go of her hand and position yourself between her legs.
>[You think!] she spits out angrily.
>You ignore her as you part her legs a little wider.
>[What should I do?] She asks, terror in her voice.
>[Just keep making slow, deep breaths] you say [Don’t just push for the sake of it. Let it happen naturally.]
>She nods as she tilts her head back, looking at the ceiling.
>[You’re gonna be fi-
>[I can feel it!] she yells out.
>You put your hands, palms up hear her womanhood.
>You knew not to try and pull the cub out prematurely.
>But you wanted to make sure you caught it.
>You look up towards Tapeesa.
>Her breathing was getting shallow
>[Deep, slow breaths] You remind her.
>[It’s hard] she whines, biting her lip.
>[It’s going to be easier if you breathe nice and slow.]
>She cries out again as you see significant movement in her belly.
>It’s finally beginning to make the push out.
>[It’s moving.]
>[I can see something! It looks like a head.]
>[You’re doing fine. Don’t rock your hips, just stay still and let it happen.]
>[There we go, I see its muzzle!]
>[Just a bit more and you’ll be done.]
>[Almost…]
>[Just a bit more and I can grab it.]
>[Got it!]
>You cradle the tiny mass in your bloodied hands as you stand up and hold it by the legs.
>With a small smack on its tush it gags slightly and begins to cry.
>[Boy or girl?] Tapeesa asks.
>[Girl] You reply.  
>You carefully flip her back over again
>And you hold your daughter in your arms.
>Her eyes haven’t opened yet when you set her down on her Mother’s stomach.
>Tapeesa scoops her up in her fins.
>[Anon…] she asks
>She doesn’t even have to finish her request as you quickly pull her shirt up and expose her breasts.
>[I haven’t cleaned her yet] you mention [The blood might stick to your fur.]
>[I don’t care.]
>The cub begins to make squelching noises as it finds and latches onto a nipple.
>[Is she suckling properly?] you ask.
>[Yes. She’s quite hungry.]
>You nod silently as you search around the hut for another scrap of seal skin.
>As you wring the excess water out you look at Tapeesa, who’s own eyes are completely focused on her cub.
>You hand hovers over your daughter’s head, fur still slick with blood and fluids.
>[May I?] You ask, gesturing with the rag.
>Tapeesa doesn’t even look at you, only acknowledging your existence with a slight nod.
>[Yes. But do it here. If she’s removed from my arms I’ll kill you.]
>You could only let out a small chuckle from the very real threat.
>You finally place your hand over the cub’s small head and begin to pet and scritch the back of her head as you slowly begin to clean her.
>[She’ll need a bath at some point.] You say as you wash the rag off.
>[I think we should at least cut the cord before talking about baths.]
>What?
>Oh.
>[And I think the rest is coming out too…]
>You reach over and pick up the placenta. The slimy, slick texture feels disgusting in your hands.
>You carry it outside, wishing to throw it in the ocean. It would make a good meal for some fish.
>You dunk your hands in the salt water. Hoping it would sterilize your hands somehow.
>This was all a very messy business.
>Most of your pelts were ruined. You’d have to go out hunting for more.
>Plus your hut reeked of blood and urine and the various other liquids that emanate from the birthing process.
>You were thinking of moving the lot of you into Tapeesa’s hut while you cleaned up your own hut and aired it out.
>As you walk back inside your hut, trying to formulate a plan for the next few weeks, Tapeesa looks up at you for the first time since giving birth.
>[We need a name] she said rather seriously.
>You shrug, not thinking you would have much of a say in this matter.
>[Well what do you want to call her?]
>She looks down at the cub, who seemed to be finishing up nursing.
>[It was tradition to name the child after a family member…but.]
>Ah you got it now.
>She probably wouldn’t want to name her cub after the parents and family who exiled her.
>[Well…] You say, scratching the back of your head [My Mother’s name was Claire.]
>[Would that work?]
>She narrows her eyes, seemingly lost in thought considering it.
>[C-Claire..]she mouths, her tongue adjusting to the foreign, English name.
>[It’s short and has a rather harsh sound.]
>Well Jesus no need to be mean about-
>[I like it.]
>Oh.
>[Claire it is then.] You say as you grab a pelt from your bed pile.
>[Here. Let me get her wrapped up.]
>You expected to just tuck the blanket around Claire as Tapeesa held her.
>But you were surprised when she just handed the cub over to you.
>[Here. You can hold her.]
>You smile as you take the small seal cub and bundle her up.
>Unlike adult leopard seals, she actually had a significant later of baby fat around her belly.
>Her fur looked like it had a dark blue hue to it.
>Though you reckon it would change to a more normal grayish color over the next few weeks and months.
>She also liked to tuck her tail between her legs and wrap her hands around it.
>That seemed to be her preferred position when you finished swaddling her in the warm pelt.
>[I thought you said you’d kill me if she left your arms?] You said with a small smile.
>Tapeesa returns the grin.
>[I’ll make an exception.]
>[Will you though?] You ask, your smile growing into a frown.
>[Will you trust me with her?]
>Her face waivers as she looks down at Claire, falling asleep in your arms, then back to you again.
>[I was once told a story when I was young. It was about a brash hunter who said to his village that he was going to kill the Pups of the Amaroq and end its lineage.]
>[When Amaroq heard of this boast it merely walked to the edge of the ocean and pulled out the Hunter’s soul out and devoured it. The Hunter dropped dead where he stood.]
>You slowly rock Claire’s body back and forth, easing her further to sleep.
>[That is you.] She said [I am…terrified of you.]
>You feel an ache in your chest at this confession.
>[But she is safer with you than she is even with me.]
>You look down to listen to Claire’s soft cooing as she nuzzles against your body for warmth.
>You hold her even tighter to her bosom.
>Truth was not much had changed with her arrival.
>You would still hunt, and forage, and fish as usual.
>You were still the same twisted man you always were.
>Your problems didn’t magically disappear with the arrival of a child like some happy romance novel.
>In fact it only complicated things further.
>Your thumb runs over her brow and you feel her short tiny breaths on your neck.
>Really only one thing had changed in your life.
>One small, minor thing.
>“I love you.”


>The same dream comes and goes.
>With that dreadful room and that same old bed.
>With that same little canine girl in it, covered by a dirty wool blanket.
>It all begins to repeat itself.
>But much slower.
>For each individual dream you have you are frozen in a moment in time.
>And In subsequent dreams there are only minute changes.
>A twitch of her ear, a flicker of your hand.
>Something so insignificant that it annoyed you.
>But then you noticed that over the course of many haunted nights it formed a image like that of a moving painting.
>Over the course of a week of sleep, a flicker of your hand turned into a balled fist.
>And her ear twitch became brushing off a fly.
>Then weeks turned into months as you patiently endured this agonizing process.
>Which then turned into two years.
>Two years of your dreams slowly pushing you to a reality you never wanted to face again.
>Because unlike before there were no twisted exaggerations, no perverted trauma to distract you from the sickening horror in front of you.
>Everything you saw here, every frozen second happened.
>That was when you realized
>Just how recent this all had been.
>When you showed up here, it had been just over a year and a half since you had been arrested for treason.
>That wasn’t enough time to deal with the pain.
>Hell you had turned into a blithering mess just from chopping down trees.
>Now four years later and you were just now willing to witness it all over again.
>Over a period of two years your dreams slowly acclimated you to the scene.
>Slowly eased you into standing up and walking over to the bed.
>Just like before, you couldn’t look her in the eye.
>Your fingers weakly grabbed the edge of the blanket.
>You swallowed hard.
>You pull the sheet over her head.
>You had seen her without the blanket.
>It was something you never wanted to see again.
>Once the deed is done you would slowly walk over to the window.
>Outside was nothing but darkness and shadow. A primordial blackness, dancing and beckoning you to join.
>You would take it up on its offer.
>Because that’s who you were.
>But not right now.
>You had something to do.
>At the tail end of this two year journey of dreams, you simply stand still amidst this room.
>And are bolted awake by the sound of a single pistol shot. One you recognized immediately.
>And in the depths of your darkened hut, all you can hear is the sleepy rustlings of your toddler at your sudden stirrings.
>Thank God you hadn’t woken Claire up.
>You lay back in bed as Claire instinctively grabs you and pulls herself towards you. Yearning for your warmth.
>You pull the blankets back up around the two of you as you form a little makeshift bed for her with your arms.
>It’s funny.
>You’re the parent.
>But her drowsy breaths and coos are like a lullaby to you.
>She puts you to sleep faster than any angel could.

>You would still have dreams.
>Where you remembered battles in China, stumbling over bodies of comrades.
>Or in Sudan where the desert mummified the corpses and buried them in the infinite sands.
>You would even dream of nothing more than that little Canine girl’s face.
>Those were particularly hard.
>No. You were not ‘over it’.
>Nor was everything okay.
>But from then on
>You would never dream of that room again.


>[Papa! Papa!]
>You feel a sudden fury weight nail you in the shin as you enter Tapeesa’s hut.
>You reach down and pet Claire’s head with your free hand.
>She giggles as your scritch the side of her muzzle.
>She was tightly bundled in thick fur pelts her Mother had made specifically for her.
>And her eyes, like all the Leopard Seal Anthros, seemed like small orbs of black ink.
>Every time you looked at them it was as if you would fall in love all over again.
>As expected her fur had lightened up significantly since her birth two years ago.
>Even so, there was still a tint of that blue hue mixed in with the gray.
>You wondered where that came from? As if the half of you that made up Claire manifested itself in that uncommon mixture.
>[I brought seals] You say to Tapeesa as you hold up a the tied up bundle of corpses.
>[You said you were running low on fat right?]
>She only nods as she moves over to take them from you.
>[I can prepare them now if you’re hungry.]
>[No thanks] You reply, [I have some left over caribou back home.]
>Home.
>That place further away was your home.
>And not the one that housed your daughter and her mother.
>[Papa! Papa! Up! Up!]
>You take your arm and put it under her butt and lift her as she leans into you.
>You grimace as she tugs and pulls at your beard. Trying to swat way her tiny hands as she giggles.
>[Hey cut that out] you complain.
>She only laughs some more as she leans her head just under your chin.
>[She’s more vocal.] You say as your other hand rubs Claire’s back. Emitting satisfied coos from the cub.
>[Mhhm] was all you heard Tapeesa say as she began to skin the seals.
>[Now. Can you say “Daddy” instead of Papa?]
>Claire tilts her head at you as the English word rolls off your tongue.
>She had no idea what you were saying.
>She was just barely getting used to her Mother’s language.
>So asking her to try and speak English might have been a bit too much.
>Still, it made you slightly bitter.
>[If you actually spent more time with her] Tapeesa chimed in [She might learn your tongue.]
>You grumbled at Tapeesa [The Caribou had moved close-by. It’s not exactly something I can ignore.]
>[Well its done now] She shot back, getting slightly snappy with you. [You should try to be with your Daughter for a bit!]
>You ignored her as you looked at Claire. She was a giggling machine as you held her in front of you.
>[Do you want to stay with Papa for awhile?]
>The tiny Leopard seal rapidly nods her head.
>[Papa! Papa! Fish! Fish!]
>You grunt approvingly as you tuck her under your arm. Eliciting a mixture of squeals and squirms from the cub.
>[Guess I’ll bring her home. When do you want her back?]
>[Anytime really.]
>That’s when you saw it.
>You hadn’t noticed it before.
>You could tell by how slouched over Tapeesa was as she worked on the feral seals.
>She was completely exhausted.
>She had been handling Claire by herself for the last two weeks while you had been hunting.
>You were actually worried she’d slice herself on the skinning knife her eyes looked so weary.
>No wonder she was so grumpy before.
>[I’ll…keep her for a few days. Give you some rest.] You say quietly.
>She simply says [Okay] before the two of you leave.
>You wince as Claire’s boot implants itself into your cheek as she crawls up along your shoulder.
>“Are you sure you’re a Seal and not a monkey?” you ask, switching over to English.
>It felt strange to say full sentences in English after barely speaking the language for years.
>You now noticed the subtle movements, strains and twists your tongue made.
>It felt like using a once strong muscle that hadn’t been worked in a long time.
>You feel her legs plant themselves on you shoulders as she wraps her hands around her head.
>[Papa! Papa!]
>You grumble.
>She hadn’t picked up a word of English despite your best efforts.
>But she needed to pick it up early on.
>You weren’t naive, eventually at some point in her life she would meet someone else other than you who were foreigners.
>This little tribe wouldn’t be isolated forever.
>[Fish! Fish!]
>Your hands reach up and grab her dangling feet.
>You hum in satisfaction as you feel her breath against the back of your neck.
>“We’ll go fishing later. I want to read to you first.”
>Yeah.
>Maybe some books would help her.
>But the only book you had was….

>“And the disciples came, and said unto him, Why speakest thou unto them in parables?”
>“He answered and said unto them, Because it is given unto you to know the mysteries of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it is not given.”
>This wasn’t working.
>It didn’t work on you as a child.
>Who reads the Bible to a two year old?
>It was supposed to help her grasp English.
>But all she did was smile and blankly stare at you quietly.
>But you persevered and kept reading. Too stubborn to admit defeat just yet.
>“The kingdom of heaven is like to a grain of mustard seed, which a man took, and sowed in his field: Which indeed is the least of all seeds: but when it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof.”
>She wasn’t even listening.
>Just fiddling around with your shirt.
>Can’t say you really blamed her, this wasn’t exactly enticing stuff.
>Or rather you couldn’t make it enticing.
>“Come on Claire” you say as you put the Bible down “You want to go fishing?”
>She just stares at you.
>You sigh.
>[Fishing?]
>Her eyes light up as she recognizes the word.
>[Fish! Fish!]
>You small as you stand up, pushing her off your lap.
>“Alright, Daddy is going to take you fishing.”
>You reach over and begin to put on your coat.
>Honestly, how could you make it enticing?
>You did believe in God.
>But with the way your life turned out, it was hard to sell a Kingdom of Heaven, a place of eternal paradise and mean it.
>Such a concept was so foreign to you.
>Even with parables spoon fed to you like a sheep, you couldn’t imagine it for yourself. Not enough to believe in it.
>What could a Kingdom of Heaven possibly look like to you?
>“Daddy!”
>You suck in your breath, almost choking from the mere act of breathing.
>You instantly pivot towards the tiny Leopard seal cub.
>She looked up at you, bundled in her little fur coat with a wide naive smile and those deep black eyes which seemed to contain the entire reflection of the sun in them.
>As if she realized that you didn’t believe the word that came out of her mouth, she stretches her arms towards you.
>She wanted you to pick her up.
>“Daddy! Daddy!” she shouted again at you.
>You fall to your knees and scoop her up in your arms.
>You thought that maybe you’d crush her with how much you squeezed her small body.
>But all she did was laugh in your ear as she repeated “Daddy” over and over again.
>And you couldn’t stop crying.


>You cut a path through the snow. A path that would quickly be filled up by the relentless blizzard.
>You relish in the sting of the ice and snow as they pelt your cheeks.
>It was many years ago that you learned to appreciate the feeling of the cold turning your knuckles into fragile glass.
>That you learned to love the harshness of life, and court its cruelties more than its pleasures.
>You stop suddenly along your path, your head filled with nothing but the bucking winds breaking themselves upon your presence.
>This was it.
>A perfect spot.
>To squat low and look at the world as a ravenous predator, frozen in the world, forever hungry.
>Thousands of years from now newer, better humans would put your hunched over frame in a museum.
>They’d tell the visitors that you were a primitive form of man, violent and uncivilized. A vicious step towards man’s ascendance.
>They would look upon you as you were in this singular moment of time.
>And they would forever fear you.
>No!
>You jolt yourself from your thoughts.
>You rise back up, a layer of snow rustling off your shoulders.
>You couldn’t anymore.
>You couldn’t wish for something like this.
>You could no long stand still as an ominous beastly shadow from some fairy tale.
>You had someone to come home to.
>And she had to…
>She had to be better than you were.
>By a wide margin.
>You would never distance yourself from your life. Who you were.
>But it was a hard life to live.
>And you would rather die than even verbally wish such an existence on your own flesh and blood.
>No.
>You wouldn’t allow the snow to turn you into a beast. As much as you craved it.
>You would march through it.
>You could never allow her…
>To become someone like you.


>You place your hand over her waist.
>“Your breathing is restrained” you say “Just because you tighten your core doesn’t mean you can tighten your lungs as well.”
>“Well it’s a bit hard to keep my stomach tight and not my breath, Dad.”
>“It’s not your stomach Claire, it’s your core, your abdominal muscles. And you have to learn how. See, look at this.”
>You place your arm hand across her wrist as she pulled back the bowstring and held the arrow in place.
>“From your elbow to your fingers you are jittery and shaking. That comes from not breathing properly.”
>“But if I loosen up my lungs I feel like I’ll loosen up everything and I’ll lose my hold on the arrow.”
>“That’s because you are young and your muscles are weak. But if your mother is anything to go by you’ll be getting much stronger when your older.”
>“That doesn’t help me now, Dad!”
>“The more you practice now, the quicker it’ll get easier for you.”
>Claire carefully aims the bow at the ground as she unnotches the arrow
>“The sooner you learn how to hunt the better off you’ll be. This land offers little kindness for those who can’t take care of themselves.”
>The little seal sub pouts in your direction.
>“None of the other girls have to use a bow.”
>You sigh at her.
>“Listen Claire. I want you to be self reliant. Other than fishing, your Mother either has to rely on me for food or she has to do various tasks for the village in exchange for meat and seal fat. The same thing goes for all of the other women of the tribe.”
>You kneel down to her, planting your hands on her shoulders.
>She was getting big for an eight year old.
>Though you imagined she would hit her first real growth spurt within the year.
>“I don’t want that for you. You are a child of two foreigners. You have to be able to take care of yourself.”
>She mumbles out a quiet okay which you respond with a gruff kiss on the nose.
>“It’s starting to get dark.” You say as you take the bow from her “It’s about time we get some dinner.”
>“Oh. And don’t forget you have to help your mother with stitching some clothes together tomorrow.”
>Other than another small ‘okay’ she was silent the entire trip back.

>“There is a bit of caribou left. Do you want it?”
>“Yes please.”
>You pull the small strip of meat from the qulliq and hand it over to Claire.
>She grinds it down into a thin red paste with just a few chews.
>She was getting to that age where her baby teeth would be falling out and her true teeth would start growing in.
>“Don’t chew with your mouth open, Claire.”
>“Sorry Dad” she mumbles quietly.
>You frown.
>“You’ve been quiet lately.” You say inquisitively
>She shuffles her feet slightly as she finishes up her meal.
>“I was um…wondering if you had trouble with a bow when you were my age?”
>“When I was your age?” You ask confused
>“Yeah, was it hard for you when your Father taught you?”
>You couldn’t help but slightly chuckle.
>“I never touched a bow until a few years before you were born.”
>“What?! Really?”
>“Mhhhmm”
>“Why didn’t your Dad teach you?”
>“Well…that’s not something you usually teach someone where I come from.”
>Plus it wasn’t like your Father ever had time to spend with you.
>He worked over 13 hours a day in the depths of a coal mine for the entirety of your youth.
>Only God knows how long he had been doing it before you were born.
>You never really talked to him outside of a good morning and a good evening.
>How could he? When he came home he was dirty and exhausted. His body ached from the workload.
>All he wanted to do when he came through the door was bathe, drink, and read.
>By the time you were 16 you had buried him in the cemetery. His lungs had given out and his body and joints were gnarled and curled from the decades of hard labour he endured.
>It was by no means a pleasant life.
>But you admired how he did it with no complaints.
>Two years later you would bury your Mother by his side.
>She had succumb to consumption.
>“Did he teach you to use that um…rifle?”
>You look over to the weathered weapon. Over the years it had worn down where you had always gripped it.
>You rarely touched it now, since you only had a fraction of the ammo you originally brought with you.
>“No. But the Army did.”
>“An Army?” Claire said “Like those armies in that Book?”
>You could only roll your eyes.
>“Sort of. I was what you called an Officer. I led soldiers.”
>“Did you go into battle?” She asked, her eyes widened.
>All children were fascinated with war, battles, fighting and killing.
>It was only natural.
>But still, that glint in her eyes made you uncomfortable.
>It reminded you too much of yourself.
>“Come on Claire, it’s getting late and I want you to practice your writing before bedtime” 
>She nods quietly as you pulled out what was now her practice notebook.
>You had gone to great pains over the years to make sure the spare ones you had brought with you were protected from the elements.
>You had also taken the time to make wood charcoal for her to write with.
>With a small ‘oof’ she plants herself in your lap as you open the notebook from where she left off.
>“Okay, see here Claire? That period doesn’t belong there. It makes a fragmented sentence.”
>“Use a comma instead.”
>“And stop making a loop with your capital B’s. That isn’t how they’re written.”
>“Alright, so can you write out the sentence….


I once had a dream where I was under the night sky. All of the world was pitch black with only the stars illuminating dimly upon my form. The sun never rose and the moon never set. But over the years the stars would flicker out of existence and each light that went out felt like another moment that brought me closer to death. It scared me. So I clung to the last vestiges of stars that cluttered around the moon. They expired so slowly it terrified me, as if I was watching an arrow fly right towards my heart over the span of decades but I could never move out of the way. I knew that when the last star was gone and the moon was swallowed by the darkness I would soon join them. I would never know warmth or love ever again. All I would ever sense in my undeath was the eternal fall of the abyss.

As the moon finally began to die, I saw in the distance a small glimmer of a light, no bigger than a firefly. It would never let me live in total darkness for a single second and erupted into a geyser of white fire. It’s heat so intense I shirked from it, afraid it would scald me. But the closer it got the more it felt like the warmth of a campfire. Then from the flame a flashing arm of light appeared and offered its hand. So desperate was I for its company and warmth that I took it and shook off any fears of being burnt. The flame grabbed me tightly and held me to its chest, smothering me in its affections.

“I shall illuminate the world for you
and never let the darkness conquer you
as it has done completely to myself”

I buried my head against the warmth of the flame. Bathing in feelings I could not comprehend I looked up at its face.

“Will you fade away like the stars and moon have as well?”

The fire nodded as it caressed my face and lifted me off the ground.

“Indeed I shall but fear not my loved one
I shall teach you to be your own fire
and thus you will walk the world with no fears”

“But why me?” I asked “why do all of this for me?”

The flame tickled my brow with a kiss and all I wanted was for that kiss to last forever.

“Because you are made from my flesh and blood
and I will teach you all that I have known
so that you will always tame the darkness.
I will show you the light of your own being.”


>“God dammit, Claire! Hold still!”
>“It hurts!” I cry out
>“I almost got it out. You’re only making it worse with your squirming.”
>I whimper quietly then yelp as I feel a sharp pain in my mouth as Dad pulls out the so called “loose” tooth.
>Didn’t feel very loose to me.
>“There see? That wasn’t so bad.”
>Dad lets out a resounding ‘oof’ as I slam my head into his chest.
>I shiver slightly as I feel his arms wrap around me.
>“A big girl like you shouldn’t be crying.” He said softly.
>“You said it would just come right out!” I shouted, still burying my face against his coat.
>“It did come right out!” He said, exasperated “I was in and out.”
>“You made it sound like it wouldn’t hurt. But it hurt a lot!”
>I sneeze as he tickles my nose with his thumb.
>“It’s over now. So stop that crying. Here, turn around and sit properly in my lap.”
>I sniffle as I twist in his arms, planting myself for firmly as he wraps one of his arms around me.
>His arms were so unlike Mom’s or any of the other Seals.
>With bare skin and only a thin layer of black hair coating them.
>In fact it was only his head and face that seemed thick with hair.
>I wonder if all humans looked like him.
>He was the only one I ever saw.
>Yet despite looking so different from me, from mom from everyone else who lived here.
>Not once did I ever think he wasn’t my Daddy.
>He drops something into my hands.
>It’s the tooth, small, sharp and eerily white.
>“Imagine if that broke off while you were eating.” Dad says “You could have sliced the inside of your mouth or even choked.”
>“Yeah…I guess” I murmured, pouting now that he couldn’t see my face.
>He must have just sensed it though.
>“I’ll tell you what. Tomorrow after the chores are done, I’ll take you fishing on the boat.
>I let out a loud gasp as I turn right back around and hug him by the neck.
>I think I hear him let out a small gag…
>“Thank you Daddy!”

>“Now are you sure you scraped all the fat off the pelt? I don’t want us to come back and find hard chunks of fat stuck to the seal skin.”
>“I said I already did it Dad! Can we go now? I got the fishing poles and everything.
>I hadn’t gone fishing in what felt like weeks!
>I had been living off of Caribou Dad and I hunted all this time.
>And I was getting sick of it.
>It felt like I practically need that gooey texture when you bite into a raw fish.
>I’d like to imagine myself as some fierce predator, like a wolf or a really big fish, catching and sinking their teething into their prey.
>Dad didn’t eat them raw though.
>He said they upset his stomach.
>I help him push the boat into the water.
>It looked different from the boats the rest of the tribe used.
>This one was longer and heavier and had these big fat oars.
>Dad said he’s had this ‘rowboat’ since the day he got here.
>But he’s always complained about it and I can remember him vowing he would burn it and just build another lighter boat in the same style as what the other villagers used.
>But much to myself and Mom’s amusement he never got around to it.
>Once were both ankle deep in the cold water he picks me up into the boat, eliciting a surprised ‘eek’ from me.
>He continues pushing a little ways out until he finally jumps in himself.
>“You remember those small little islands just around the peak?” he asks.
>I nod.
>“That’s where we’re going. They like to congregate there since there aren’t many predators other than birds.”
>I give him another nod as I grab one of the oars and begin to row with him.
>They were so heavy and the repetitive movements made my arm sore really quickly.
>I didn’t know how Dad rowed both oars all by himself.
>It was why I never complained about it when we went fishing.
>I didn’t want to look weak in front of my Dad who seemed to have limitless strength.
>And as his daughter it was like I needed to live up to that.
>So he wouldn’t be disappointed in me…
>And with that thick beard covering his face, I never knew what he was feeling.
>Even Mom told me that he was good at hiding himself in plain site.
>But how could she know anything about him, I wondered.
>They didn’t live together like all of the other couples in the village.
>They didn’t hate each other. At least I don’t think they did.
>But there was a reason why they were separate from each other.
>But I was always too scared to ask, other then when I was really young and didn’t know better.
>And the only answer I got was that it was “their arrangement”.
>And when Mom told me, she said it in a tone that I wasn’t to ask again.
>“We’re almost there, Claire. Can you see those little islands?”
>I could only nod and let out a grunt. Too fatigued from the rowing to say anything.
>Truth was those weren’t islands. More like packed dirt and mud that jutted out from the sea.
>A brief resting place for birds before they would fly back to their business.
>“This is a good enough spot. You got your rod, Claire?”
>I pick up my fishing rod and hand the other one over to Dad.
>“I didn’t pack any lunch for us” He said smirking “So you’ll have to catch fish if you want to eat.”
>“Pfffft” I spit out “I think I’m better at fishing than you are.”
>“Is that so?” He says mischievously as he reaches his fingers and lightly jabs them under my ribs and begins to tickle me.
>“Dad! Stop it!” I giggle out.
>“Just keep fishing. You’re so amazing you should just be able to do it.”
>I fall into his arms as I let go of the rod.
>“You’re ridiculous” I manage to say between laughs.
>Eventually we manage to stifle our laughter and calm down.
>I can’t remember for how long we fished, but it was a generally quiet affair.
>It always was with Dad.
>Dad, despite being playful with me was actually a very quiet person.
>And there were few it seemed who could be comfortable with him in that quietness.
>In fact it was only myself and Mom.
>And I can’t remember a single moment in my life when she was alone with him.
>I think others would have interpreted his silence as almost oppressive.
>As if he was enforcing the stillness around him and all had to comply.
>But I don’t think it was like that at all.
>When two beings can be silent around each other, it’s almost like there is a voiceless connection between the two.
>They know what each other is thinking without having to say a word.
>Anybody is familiar with such a concept.
>But it wasn’t like that with Dad.
>He was always a mystery.
>And maybe others were a mystery to him too.
>His silence wasn’t oppressive, nor was there a connection stemming from it.
>It was just…
>Nothing.
>Like a white field amidst a blizzard.
>And there was peace in that.
>In fact it was so peaceful that I could imagine others would find it unsettling.
>But not me. I had a unique privilege.
>I was his daughter.
>“Daddy, can I ask you something?”
>“Hmmm?” 
>“Why are you…um, missing two fingers from one of your hands?”
>He looks down at his left hand, his ring and pinky finger were now just stumps.
>I had seen him shirtless before, he was covered in scars.
>And he had always just casually said he got them from when he was in the army.
>Though he never told me more.
>But two missing fingers was more than just a scar.
>And I wanted to know more this time.
>“Oh, this? I lost them just before you were born.”
>“Really?” I said, surprised “It didn’t happen when you were in the… uh army?”
>“No.” He replied bluntly “The village was having a problem with wolves that had migrated here.”
>“I lost two fingers during one of their attacks.”
>It was such an unexciting way to describe something so…I dunno, awesome.
>He had all these marks of this adventurous, thrilling life.
>But he brushed it aside as if he wanted it to be forgotten.
>“But we don’t get wolves around here.” I said
>“Not anymore.”

>We only fished for a little bit longer in silence.
>By the end of the day I had caught (and eaten) six 
>Dad only had two that he’d cook for himself later.
>“It’s getting late, Claire.” He said as he placed his fishing rod back into the boat “We should head home before we lose all of the sunlight.”
>I made a small nod as I pulled back my own rod.
>“Do I have to practice my writing today, Dad?” I asked as I grabbed the oar.
>“Absolutely” he replied sternly “Learning to read and write is essential.”
>“But only you and me in the entire village can do it! Not even Mom knows how.”
>“You will learn because you are my daughter. I won’t raise an illiterate child.”
>He grabs the other oar and begins rowing, I silently follow suite.
>“Come on now, I took you fishing like you asked. No pouting.”
>I mumble out a small ‘sorry’ as we row back home in silence.
>I felt bad for making a fuss about my lessons.
>Truth was I didn’t hate them that much.
>But I still wanted to get out of it.
>Just to see if I could.
>And Dad was right, he took me fishing and right when we finished I acted like a brat.
>But what could I do now?
>I felt like if I gave an actually apology instead of that sad sorry of a scolded 9 year old, it would somehow make it worse.
>It was small little moments like these where he…
>Sometimes felt like a total stranger I couldn’t understand.
>Now I actually wanted to start my English lesson as soon as possible.
>Just so this could all be forgotten and we could focus on something else.
>Instead of the silence which only seemed like damning evidence to me.
>“Look.” Dad says as he points up at the sky.
>My oar falls from my hands as I see it.
>Green flames twirling and whipping across the fading orange sky of the sunset.
>Maybe all those stories Dad read me were actually real.
>What else could explain this!?
>This living proof of magic before my eyes.
>“What is that?” I asked.
>Dad turned to me and smiled.                             >It had nearly a decade since you saw it last
>"Your Mother's tongue calls it Atsanik"                  >And now again it gave you a new sight to behold
>"In English it's called the Northern Lights"             >That same sense of wonder and joy
>I thought it should be given a more grand name.          >You now saw for the first time on her face
>Like Heaven.                                             >Before you were happy to experience it alone
>Daddy scoots over and I quickly sit in his lap.          >Now you realized just how hollow it was then
>I feel his arms pull be closer to him.                   >When compared to what you felt now
>And his head rest on top of my own.                      >Every single painful moment in your existence
>I swore I felt a smile form across his face              >Was dwarfed by this one singular moment of bliss
>"This is beautiful" he said as he hugged me tighter      >That justified your entire being
>I squirmed slightly against him                          >No matter what kind of life you lived or would live
>"Yeah, the sky is really pretty."                        >Nothing
>I feel him kiss the top of my head                       >Nothing could ever take this moment away from you
                            >"That's not what I was talking about"


>You wake up at the sound of a sudden yelp, followed by deep hyperventilating.
>Panic sets in as you quickly turn out to see Claire huddled under the blankets, sweat visible on her face.
>Her eyes are wide open and glow in the darkness of the hut.
>Her shallow frantic breathing is followed by small whimpers.
>“Claire, what’s wrong?”
>You reach out to her.
>She immediately dives into your chest, her muzzle pressed firmly in between your neck and shoulder.
>“I’m sorry” she sniffles out.
>You instructively wrap your arms around her and pull her back under the blankets with you.
>Despite all the sweat, she’s shivering.
>“It’s okay. Just tell me what’s wrong.”
>You can feel her fingers grip tightly to your back.
>“I had…a bad dream.”
>“A bad dream?” You say, taken off guard.
>“I know it’s really dumb but everyone makes such a big deal out of dreams and I had a really scary one and it felt so real but I feel like a dumb little kid and I woke you up and I didn’t mean to and I-
>You silence her with a kiss on the brow and press her closer to you.
>“Claire.”
>“Don’t apologize to me”
>“I’m your Father.”
>“It’s my job to look after you. Especially if you have a nightmare.”
>“But!” she stammered “It’s the middle of the night and-
>“That doesn’t matter. You’re my little girl.”
>“Now please try to get some sleep.”
>She says nothing as she nuzzles further into the crook of your neck. Using it as a pillow.
>How often had you found yourself in her position with Tapeesa.
>You had always tried to find her heartbeat.
>And now…
>Claire was feeling yours.
>Using it as a organic metronome to pace her breathing. Going from a raspy, shallow heave to a deep rumble with a small little whistle when she breathed out of her nose.
>You no longer needed to be comforted in life.
>Instead you would provide protection and comfort to her.
>You wrap yourself tighter around her and she makes a sleepy sigh.
>You rub her muzzle and pet her head.
>“Are you asleep?”
>...
>“Good.”
>“Because I don’t think I could say it to you and not sound silly.”
>“But I hope your dreams can hear me and channel it to you there.”
>.…
>“I love you.”
>“I love you so much Claire.”
>“I would die for you without a second thought. With a smile on my face.”
>“You are the only thing I value in life.”
>“Without you, I’m just a…
>“Sad wretch of a man.”
>“I always was.
>“I just didn’t realize it.”
>“Til I was blessed with you.”
>“When you were born I didn’t think my life would change that much.”
>“But I was wrong.”
>“You made it so much better.”
>“And I am so grateful for that.”
>“I hope you know, even if you can’t hear me.”
>“I will never stop loving you.”


>Your eyes blink away the snow blasting in your face.
>Winter was particularly harsh this year.
>The blizzards were more violent than usual.
>But in the long run that was a good thing.
>The more Claire experienced this type of weather early on in life, the easier it would be for her later.
>“Claire!” You shout out, not being able to see her amidst the storm.
>“I’m here, Dad!” You hear her shout somewhere to your left. “I think I killed it!”
>You trudge through the snow, following the sounds of her voice.
>She still wasn’t even 10 yet, and she could already hunt and was smart enough to stick close to you.
>Frankly she had more skills than you did at her age.
>All you knew how to do was just terrorize your neighborhood with friends.
>You stumble into her, catching her from falling into the snow.
>“Are you alright?” You ask, keeping your hand on her shoulder.
>“Yeah! The Caribou is over here. I kinda just ran into when it really close and thought it spotted me.”
>“But you managed to make a clean kill?”
>“Mhhmm, at least I think I did. It’s hard to tell with the blizzard.”
>You smile as she tells you her achievement with that infectious enthusiasm of a child.
>“Well stay close by me and lead the way. I’ll carry it back and your Mother can skin the pelts.”
>Your hand stays on her shoulder and she leads you as if you were a blind man.
>In this weather you might as well have been.
>It was astonishing she could just remember where the carcass was in the first place.
>Eventually you see the silhouette of the corpse, already becoming buried in the snow.
>“Good work Claire, don’t wander off now, I have to get it-
>You freeze as you hear some sort of grunt.
>It reminded you of the noises a horse made when they were being broken in.
>stubborn and angry.
>“Dad…”
>“I hear it too. Stay behind me.”
>Even with the roaring wind of the snowstorm, you could hear its heavy breathing.
>As you reach for your knife you see snow start to get kicked up as something large charges at.
>Your eyes widen.
>It’s a caribou buck! With long antlers.
>You quickly grab Claire by the scruff of her coat and toss her aside.
>Your knife is knocked from your hand as you feel the creature’s forehead smash into your own.
>You feel blood oozing down your face.
>You’re lucky you weren’t impaled just then.
>You had one hand gripping his antler.
>But the other hand….
>Had missed it’s mark
>and it’s Antler sliced and tore through your shoulder.
>“Daddy!?” You hear Claire cry out.
>You can smell the buck’s breath as it bleats at you and continues to push against you.
>You shut your left eye as blood begins to drip on it.
>With a loud roar you bring a knee into the caribou’s neck, causing it to violently coughing and sputter.
>“Daddy!?”
>“STAY AWAY!” You yell harshly
>With a deep inhale you pull your head back and slam it into the beast’s snout.
>You can feel some of the cartilage break and the beast emits a low whine.
>No.
>You didn’t care if this thing was just a animal.
>It put your everything in danger.
>It was going to die.
>For the first time in a long time, your blood boiled.
>And you brought yourself back to that place of rage and indifference of suffering.
>You slam your head into the buck again, this time right between the eyes.
>It’s front legs buckle and lowers before you.
>You didn’t care.
>You put its head and neck in a vice grip with one arm for leverage as you swing around on its back
>Both you hands grip its antlers as is tries to violently throw you off of it.
>You feel your eyes bulge out and your teeth grind harshly against each other as you use the antlers to slowly turn and twist the caribou’s head and neck.
>It begins to let out gasps of air and gags out large globs of spit as its neck reaches its rotation limit.
>You lick your lips as you grip the antlers by the base and with all of your remaining strength push down hard and sharp.
>You hear its neck snap and it instantly falls dead, it’s momentum causing you to hit the snow with a resounding thud.
>You let out a small gasp as the pain from your wounded shoulder finally sets it.
>And something else sets in.
>The fact that Claire had been screaming for you this whole time.
>You had just tuned it out.
>“I’m here! Can you hear me?”
>You see the tiny leopard seal sprint in your direction and quickly fall to her knees in front of you.
>Her cheeks were soaked with tears and her eyes were red and puffy.
>“D-Daddy?”
>“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m okay”
>You pet her head slowly and try to wipe away the fresh tears.
>“Look where we are, Claire. No time for crying, alright? Help me up.”
>You lightly balance yourself on your daughter as you slowly get up on your feet. Feeling winded and sore.
>You were too old to be doing that sort of thing anymore.
>“Is it dead?” she asks, nervously pointing to the dead buck.
>You nod.
>“Yeah, I broke its neck.”
>You immediately regret saying that as Claire’s tear soaked eyes turn into that of wonder and amazement.
>“But that thing is huge?! How did you-
>“Claire! No time for chitchat. Help me get this other one on my shoulders.”
>“But Dad, you’re hurt….”
>“I’ll be fine. I can still carry it. The village isn’t far.”
>You flinch as you feel the weight of the caribou push down on your gashed shoulder.
>Plus your arm on that side had gone completely numb.
>So you could only really balance it with your own good arm.
>You really were getting too old for this.
>“Claire, stay close to me at all times. I can’t have you getting lost.”
>“Yes Dad.”
>Despite the numbness, you can still feel Claire’s hand softly move into your own, currently useless. dangling hand.
>It didn’t even have the strength to squeeze her.
>But that was okay.
>She more than made up for it.
>“I thought you died…” she mumbled.
>You wish you could kiss her right then and there.
>“I survived worse” you gruffly say.
>Yet there was this horrible pit in your stomach.
>This awful feeling of dread and fear.
>It wasn’t that Claire could have been hurt.
>It was that look of amazement and wonder at your feat of strength.
>It was the same look Tapeesa gave you when she looked upon your scars as proof of a worthy warrior.
>Not understanding the actual grimness behind it all.
>She saw you as nothing more than a strong mate.
>And now Claire would see you as nothing more than a strong father.
>What if there was no blizzard masking the deed?
>What if she saw you completely exposed? As the violent savage you were.
>And maybe…
>What if her reaction wasn’t like Tapeesa’s?
>What if it was the complete opposite?
>She was your daughter after all.
>What if one day she decided to emulate her Father?
>Because after all, you were teaching her to be self sufficient
>You were teaching her to be…
>Just
>like
>you.


>[You will have to stay in bed for two weeks. Else the wound will open up again.]
>You grumble out an affirmative to Tapeesa as she pours you a small cup of tea.
>[We should have enough meat stocked up to last us. And you and Claire can always go fishing.]
>The older Leopard Seal nods quietly as she places the pot of water back on the qulliq.
>Her muscles had faded over the past decade.
>Well maybe that wasn’t the right word.
>More like they were padded over with a healthy layer of fat.
>Widening her hips.
>Fattening her thighs.
>Giving her a slight paunch in her belly
>You didn’t want to admit it made you lust after her.
>Because it would only accompany feelings of bitterness and loneliness.
>That very short time of passionate lovemaking was long gone by now.
>And they were never coming back.
>[Where is Claire?] Tapeesa asks
>[I asked her to deliver the Caribou pelts to Yoskolo.]
>She nods.
>[I’m going to ask the other women to come together and make some new clothes for him. He has no one to do it for him since Asiaq passed away last year.]
>You let out an approving grunt.
>[You should have Claire help too. She’s been with me for too much time. I think it’s time for her to ingratiate herself more with the village]
>Tapeesa stops attending to the qulliq and stares at you, her large black eyes watching you curiously.
>[What?] you ask
>[Nothing. I’ve just never heard you say something like that before.]
>[I say only what I know.]
>[Did the Caribou attack scare you that much?]
>You lower your eyes at your former mate, a bit of glare begins to form.
>[Don’t presume anything with me, Tapeesa.]
>She huffs at you.
>[You men and your pride! You know there was a point in your life where you would admit to me when you were frightened.]
>[Those days are long gone.] You sneer back at her, the pain in your voice showing.
>Her eyes go soft and sad.
>You immediately regret your words as she turns your back to you, facing the qulliq.
>[Y-your right.] she said [It was wrong of me to-
>[I was scared] you interrupt her.
>She twists he head back to you, the rest of her body following shortly after
>[But not of the attack itself. I wasn’t scared to lose my life and I wasn’t even scared that Claire would lose hers. I knew things weren’t that drastic.]
>You lower your head, staring dumbly at the ground.
>[I was scared Claire would see only a small part of what you once saw.]
>The hut is deathly silent after this for quite some time.
>That bond of silence you two once had had been shattered a lifetime ago.
>Now it was just that awkward quietness that was made only worse the longer it held.
>And you didn’t have the courage or will to break it.
>But she did.
>[Can I ask you a question?]
>You pull your head up to look back at her.
>Good Lord she was beautiful.
>If only you could kiss her again 
>And feel just how much softer her body had gotten since you laid with it last.
>You wish you could be an old man, with your baser instincts and urges broken and outdated.
>But right now, all you wanted was to rip her clothes off.
>You felt those long dormant emotions and thoughts creep up in your skull.
>Not ones of lust and love.
>But ones of battle and relishing in your dominance. In your survival.
>Except she was the prime target of your evil thoughts.
>Just grab her.
>Keep her muzzle tight with one hand as you slide down her pants with the other.
>The more she struggles the sweeter your victory.
>Would tears swell up as you tasted her ripened fruit.
>You hoped so
>You could rut her like a beast and run her ragged until-
>[Go ahead.] You say calmly.
>[When you…arrived here. You said you would be here for 12 winters.]
>[Yeah.] you said tiredly. 
>You knew where this was going.
>[This is the end of the 11th winter, Anon.]
>[What will you do? Can you stay here?]
>You didn’t really want to think about it.
>But you already knew the answer.
>And it was No.
>[I could probably get away with staying here for a little while longer] You explained.
>[But eventually, someone will show up here wondering where I’ve been]
>And you would be quickly hauled back to England and executed for desertion.
>This was your last chance and they would use any reason to take it away from you.
>You still remember what that Officer from the War Department told you.
>You were basically property of the Crown.
>That fact may have become blunted over time spent in the wilderness and with a child.
>But it didn’t mean it was any less true, with deadly repercussions.
>[So will you leave?] she asked
>[These are….questions for another time] you say.
>[No. They are questions for now!] she said sternly.
>[You promised me you would never abandoned-
>[THAT’S WHAT YOU DID TO ME!] You roared at her.
>She recoils and shirks back from your outburst.
>She looked afraid.
>Her memory brings her back to that night with the wolves.
>And she thought you would finally visit that treatment upon herself.
>You would never do such a thing.
>Even if you guiltily fantasized about it
>But you were happy she was thinking it.
>It was wrong.
>But it felt good to see her this terrified of you.
>After it had brought you nothing but heartache and misery.
>[YOU WALKED AWAY FROM MY BED! YOU LEFT ME ALL ALONE!]
>[YOU DARE ACCUSE ME OF ABANDOMENT!]
>[I’m not leaving because I want to! I would be leaving because if I didn’t, men in another big boat would come for me in a few years and tie me up in front of my daughter to haul me off and have me killed!]
>You’ve shouted at her into silence. The only noises you can hear are Tapeesa’s suppressed hiccups and small sobs.
>You slowly get up and begin to walk outside.
>[W-wait!] she cries out.
>You turn to her, the vitriol apparent in your eyes.
>Your amazed she even has the bravery to speak to you with how you are right now.
>[I-is that the only reason?] she asks, her hands folded in front of her as she tries to compose herself.
>Your gaze softens as you feel your guilty conscious creep back in.
>[No] you say bluntly.
>[I’m afraid that someday, Claire will see something like what you saw.]
>[And she’ll look at me the same way you do.]
>Tapeesa can’t hold back the tears as she breaks down crying.
>You stand there watching her. Refusing to walk over and comfort her.
>[But even more than that. I’m afraid that she won’t.]
>[That she’ll see me as someone to emulate and try to mimic my life.]
>[And I’d rather die then have that happen.]
>Everything from here on plays like deja vu
>Once more you saw Tapeesa crying, guilty that she left you even though she could never bring her self to come back to you again.
>And once again you couldn’t really blame her. Knowing what you were.
>But you were still angry and hurt enough to not go to her, to comfort her.
>To tell her you understood and that it was alright.
>Never.
>Like before, you simply walked away, and let her deal with her sorrow on her own.
>You did. You always did things on your own.
>She dangled the opportunity for companionship.
>Then yanked it away.
>You just decided to bitterly return the sentiment.
>As you leave the hut and trudge wearily through the snow.
>Another unrelated thought pops up.
>What year was it?
>You lost track of the days and dates within two weeks of coming here.
>All of the outside world was just a painted blur to you now.
>You try to figure out small things.
>How old are you?
>40 currently.
>Okay, you knew that.
>You can remember the year you spent in the prison.
>And all the years you spent in Sudan and China
>And before that your time at the Academy.
>Okay so…
>Just line them all up.
>What year was it?
>Hmmm.
>You could have been wrong, but not by much.
>If you were right and had aligned everything properly…
>The year should be
>1914

>“Daddy?”
>You turn around to see Claire standing at the doorway.
>“I thought you would be with your Mother tonight?”
>You see her nervously shuffle her feet.
>“I am. But I wanted to stop by and say good night”
>You notice her body is stiff and her face is tense.
>“Well that’s very sweet of you, Claire. Did you make sure to drop off the pelts to Yoskolo?”
>She nods.
>“H-how are you feeling?” she asks, gesturing to your stitched up shoulder.
>You rub it lightly with your thumb.
>“I’m fine. This isn’t the worst one I’ve gotten.”
>“Daddy.” She says suddenly, her large black eyes now looking towards the ground “can I ask you a question?”
>She rocks back and forth on her feet.
>“Of course. What’s bothering you?”
>She slides her feet closer to you.
>“You said after that caribou attacked you…that there was no time to cry.”
>Wha…
>She shuffles even closer to you.
>You can feel her breath.
>You place your fingers under her muzzle and push her head up to face you.
>You can see those black orbs begin to water.
>“Is…
>“Is it…
>“Okay now?”
>With lightning speed you wrap your arms around the small seal and pull her into you for a tight hug.
>She instantly begins to bawl into your chest as you stroke and pet her head.
>“I’m HIC sorry d-daddy I-
>“You don’t ever have to apologize to me Claire!” You say over her.
>“It was my fault, darling. I wasn’t paying attention.”
>“I-I-I couldn’t see you with the storm and all I heard was the f-fighting and I thought you were-
>“Shhh, baby. Don’t say any more. Nothing bad happened. It’s all okay.”
>She lets out a small squeak as you scratch the back of her neck.
>You lean down and plant a kiss on the top of her head.
>“And I’m very proud of you for making a clean kill all by yourself.”
>“Y-yeah?”
>“Mhhhm. And you’re getting much taller and stronger too. Soon you won’t need me to accompany you.”
>She squirms and shifts herself in your arms.
>“But I like it when we’re both out hunting.”
>You smile at her.
>“You’re going to have to learn to do things on your own.”
>There was a very real reason for that.
>But you didn’t have the courage to tell her why.
>“Tomorrow your Mother is going to meet with the other women to make some clothes for Elder Yoskolo. I want you to go and help. Is that clear?”
>She nods slowly as you wipe away her remaining tears.
>“Good girl. Now run on back to your Mother before she gets worried.”
>Claire gives a quick nod. Standing on her tippy toes, she hugs you by the neck and plants a wet kiss on your cheek.
>“Good..Good night Dad. Feel better.”
>You nuzzle her face as your nose touches hers.
>“I will. Now head back to your Mother’s. She’s probably had dinner ready for quite some time.”
>As she quickly darts out of the hut, your smile slowly fades.
>You fumble around in the back of your hut. The light from the qulliq didn’t reach back there so greatly.
>You had to paw around before you found them.
>A series of old notebooks.
>But these ones weren’t used for Claire’s writing lessons.
>You open them up and see sketches of the sea.
>Dotted lines and various markings indicating where whales could be found.
>Each small little X or dotted line had a label right beneath it.
>Spring.
>Summer.
>Early Fall
>Late Fall.
>There was no Winter.
>Even with more advanced ships at the British’s disposal, it would be too risky to attempt a whaling expedition.
>This entire notebook was killed with bundles of sketches, detailing specific regions of the sea around the Mackenzie river Delta.
>Almost a dozen years of work.
>Written in this little notebook.
>But it wasn’t the only thing you had been working on all this time.
>You had been taking writing lessons of your own.
>Six more notebooks all contained various Inuit words, phrases and the closest thing to an alphabet you could come up with.
>You weren’t a professional linguist by any stretch. You just had a knack for picking up languages.
>The work you did was rusty. You had a feeling that any professor at Oxford who took a look at your attempts to anglicize this purely oral language would be appalled.
>But you hoped it would be a good enough starting point.
>Because this was more than just random exile. They hadn’t put you here just to leave you to rot.
>That would have been far more preferable ironically enough.
>You were here to work.
>And if what you brought them was subpar…
>They might just throw you to a firing squad anyway.
>And it still wasn’t done.
>You were writing these language guides purely on memory.
>You could tell that there were still things missing.
>This was probably one of the hardest languages on the world to learn.
>You had to get this right the first time.
>Or this all would have been for nothing.
>You throw a piece of fish on the qulliq to cook and begin working.


>[Anon, can you please tell Tapeesa I appreciate the new coat. The old one was getting a bit worn out.]
>[I will pass it along to her] You say to the ancient Leopard Seal as you pour him another cup of tea.
>Yoskolo’s hut felt depressingly empty without Asiaq always fiddling about the place.
>But it seemed to bother you more than Yoskolo.
>It was clear he missed her.
>But that he was also at peace with her passing.
>It reminded you of Tapeesa when she talked about her first husband dying.
>These peoples were far more accepting of death than most.
>[So. You will be leaving us soon?] Yoskolo said plainly, getting right to the topic.
>[In about Eight months yes. I have to return to my people. If I don’t, my punishment could be…severe.]
>Yoskolo grunts as he drinks the tea.
>[Will we be…seeing anymore of your kind?]
>You finally sit back down across from him.
>[I can’t say. Probably not for some time. But there is a good chance they will show up eventually.]
>[How should we do dealings with them?]
>[You probably won’t have many interactions. They want to hunt whales far beyond this little portion of the sea. They just wanted my input for additional…er knowledge.]
>[I see] He said slowly
>[But if the village ever does interact with…my people. Always treat them courteously but with caution. Never accept them as friends or allies. Treat them as neutral entities and nothing more. Tell them there is nothing here but Caribou and snow and they will leave you alone to find whales.]
>[What makes you say that?] Yoskolo asks
>[I do not wish to sound rude. But having lived here for as long as I have. I know that there is nothing here they would desire. No one but the most hardy would ever choose to live here.]
>[Well it is not surprising that you are the most hardy.]
>[Would it surprise if I told you it wasn’t my choice?]
>You catch a small glint in the old seal’s eye as he finishes his tea.
>You get up to quickly make more for him.
>[You didn’t want to come here?] He asks.
>[I was forced. My choice was to come here, or die.]
>[Might I ask why you were put is such an…unfortunate circumstance?]
>The hut is silent for awhile, the only sound is the pouring of boiling water.
>Yoskolo waits patiently for an answer as you set the fresh cup of tea before him.
>[I committed a great crime and I would like to leave it at that.]
>The elder seal bows respectfully at your request.
>[You’ve been with us for so long. But it seems only when you’re about to leave that I know a bit more about you.]
>[With all due respect I must protest that there isn’t much to know. I’m not remarkable…or if I am it’s for the wrong reasons.]
>[You have always been humble, Anon. Yet after your battle with those wolves, I know your humility masks a great warrior.]
>[Those are the wrong reasons I was talking about.] You say slowly between sips of hot tea.
>Yoskolo only lets out a small grunt, thankfully he changed the subject.
>Though it wasn’t much better.
>[What about your Daughter and Tapeesa? What will you do with them?]
>[They will remain here] You explain [I have been teaching Claire hunting these many years so she can support herself and her Mother if need be. I would hope the village will do all it can to assist them when possible.]
>Yoskolo gives you a small nod to grant your request.
>[I assume they…know of your departure.]
>[Tapeesa does…Claire…does not. She would not understand the reasons. And if she knew she would insist on coming with me. It would bring unnecessary stress and tension to her Mother.]
>[But would she be better off if she left with you?]
>What was it you once said when Tapeesa was still pregnant?
>That you would do anything for them, even if the pain was more than you could bear?
>Now was the moment you had to live up to those words.
>[No. She would not be. She is getting to an age where I would be a poor influence on her. She should live here, among her own kind. Plus my relationship with my own people is still most likely…tense even after all these years. It would not be wise to bring her along in that kind of foreign environment.]
>The old seal nods along with you explanation.
>His once black eyes were now completely grayed over from his cataracts.
>It was a wonder he wasn’t completely blind.
>[It will be a shame to see you leave after so long.] He said
>[I agree. But this is the way things must be.]
>[Where will you leave from?]
>[I’ve was once told there is small settlement far south from here, along the river. I will take a boat and find my way back home.]
>[That river is long and treacherous] Yoskolo replied wearily [It is a dangerous route to take.]
>[It is my only viable option] you explain [I have to go on what I know for certain.]
>[I see.] He looks down at his empty tea cup [Then we will wish you safe passage and cherish the time you still have here.]
>You bow your head slightly.
>[I thank you for all your people have done for me. I shall always remember this land with great fondness.]
>As you exit the hut you see a familiar sight.
>It’s Claire back from her first solo hunt.
>And tied across her shoulders and back was a smaller Caribou.
>Looked like an adolescent.
>It should have been impossible for a ten year old to carry even such a smaller weight like that.
>But these seals were not ordinary folk.
>Claire was already in the midst of her growth spurt and was about five feet tall by now. A common feature among most of the village children her age.
>You were pretty surprised that she thought to make the burden of carrying the carcass easier by tying it to her body.
>Why the hell didn’t you think of that?
>Would have made your early hunting days so much damn easier.
>“You caught one!” You say smiling, startling Claire.
>“Oh! It’s just a teenager I think. I don’t think I could walk around with a bigger one.”
>You scritch her cheek and she makes a small squeak at your touch.
>She always was adorable.
>“Let’s get this butchered. You get the best cut of meat tonight, Claire.”
>The image was a little silly.
>You were walking hand in hand with your daughter of another species, while she hauled around a giant dead animal on her shoulders.
>A strange memory to be sure.
>But a happy one.


>“You never take me ice fishing Dad.” Claire says as she plops her line back in the small little cut out hole in the ice bed.”
>“I’ve never liked going on the sea ice, or anywhere near the water for that matter in the winter.” You explain.
>“Mom says you once fell off your boat when the cold season was coming. Is that why?”
>“Yes.”
>Claire giggles slightly from your laconic reply.
>She leans against you as you wrap your arm around her shoulder.
>Sometimes you wish she wasn’t so tall.
>Because she was too big to sit in your lap now.
>But you desperately wanted her to.
>Two months.
>Two harsh cold months left before the warm season came.
>and you had to leave everything you cherished
>To a world you were both too familiar with and now felt completely alien to you.
>You wished this could have been your home forever.
>You didn’t care one bit about how the world might have changed since you came here.
>None of it really mattered to you, it was all just nonsense.
>But you had to go back to it.
>To submerge yourself in that world that you no longer cared for.
>Because the alternative could very well be far worse.
>“Claire…” you said slowly.
>“Yeah?”
>“I want you to know…
>You knew what you wanted to say.
>That you loved her always and would always cherish her.
>That the single happiest moment in your whole existence was when you held her for the first time.
>That nothing in your life was as precious as she was.
>But you couldn’t…
>Your throat tightened and your mouth dried up.
>How could you say these things knowing what you were soon going to do?
>Even if it was all true, how could it be taken seriously.
>“Dad?”
>“I’m….I’m proud of you, Claire.”
>Oh…well um, thanks Dad.”
>Her focus suddenly darts to the ice hole as her line tenses and is pulled.
>“Ooh! I caught one!”


>You hear loud rumblings from your qulliq as the fire crackles.
>It is barren and dark outside.
>The world has frozen in time.
>But you still age.
>You had packed everything into the boat.
>All of your notebooks were wrapped in a double layer of seal and caribou pelts to protect them from the elements.
>Amazingly after 12 years you still had a handful of ammo for your rifle.
>Though the rifle itself was already worn out.
>You were no longer comfortable with firing it.
>You hoped you didn’t have to.
>You packed a small amount of food to sustain you for some time.
>But you still remember what that old grizzled captain said to you years ago.
>The nearest settlement was 200 miles away.
>You would certainly need to hunt.
>So you brought your bow too.
>Then you packed a large number of pelts you had been saving up for over a year.
>You would need to trade them to make money and get yourself back home.
>Once you made proper contact with the Canadian confederation they would probably be able to verify who you were and put you on a boat.
>But even that would be a long journey.
>Your voice is robbed of all oxygen as the bellowing grows louder.
>The light from the qulliq loses its luster while the shadows it creates become overwhelming.
>Your blood runs cold and you tense up, dropping a spare pelt as you stare at your doorway.
>And you see her silhouette become visible as she steps closer to the qulliq.
>You grind your teeth as you stare at Lizzie.
>Her small frail body draped by that dirty wool blanket.
>You wince and turn away as it falls away, revealing her naked body.
>No.
>You didn’t need to see that.
>You didn’t want to see that again.
>You keep packing your things, trying to vain to ignore her.
>To pretend she isn’t there.
>She pierces your facade when she speaks in English, a language she never learned.
>“You are a failure.”
>“You spent so much time trying to cloak what you are.”
>“And each time it has brought you nothing but pain.”
>“You tried to be soldier. Disciplined and steadfast, firm in your duty.”
>“And you failed.”
>“Then you tried to be a husband. A gentle but strong partner, and a loyal provider.”
>“And you failed.”
>“Then you tried to be a Father. A protective teacher, a source of strength and love.”
>“And soon, that will fail too.”
>“All this to hide who are really are.”
>“And what you are and have always been”
>“Is a Monster”
>Your lips quiver and your voice breaks.
>“I know.”
>You shakily stand up and walk past her.
>You make sure to never look at her uncovered body once.
>“But at least she won’t be.”
>With your rifle slung over your shoulder you walk out.

>You wake up.
>Sweat beads run liberally down your brow.
>You look around in the dark, everything a blank for you.
>Until you see everything packed and ready to go.
>Now you remember.
>You had taken care of everything and decided to have a short rest before hand
>It would be a while before you would sleep in a bed again.
>You imagined yourself sleeping in a real bed instead of the pile of pelts and furs you had grown accustom to.
>The thought repulsed you.
>You get dressed and head outside.
>It was still dark, the sun was just on the verge of making an appearance.
>You let out a tired yawn as you head over to Tapeesa’s hut.
>Maybe it was pointless and even painful doing this.
>But…
>You just wanted to see them one last time.
>As you expected, Tapeesa was already awake. Making breakfast.
>She pays you no mind as you walk over to Claire, still sound asleep.
>She still whistled through her nose slightly when she was in a deep sleep.
>You pet her head softly.
>[Are you going today?] she asked as she stirs a meat broth.
>[Yes. I have packed everything I needed. The Hut and anything that’s in it are yours to use.]
>[I see…] she says slowly.
>She was always good at hiding her feelings.
>But you had been around her for so long that you could tell when she was sad or upset.
>You quietly move away from Claire as you stare down Tapeesa.
>A decade of bitterness had built up in you from this woman.
>But now it…just didn’t matter anymore.
>[Anon…] she began [I’m-
>[I’m sorry, Tapeesa] you interrupt her, causing her eyes to go wide and her short whiskers to twitch.
>[You made…a decision a long time ago about us] you began [And it made me angry and hurt.]
>[And I held onto that anger and pain for too long and caused you unnecessary suffering.]
>She looks down at the ground, unable to say anything for a while.
>[It’s okay…] she says [I am not faultless either.]
>You reach out and touch her hand, cradling it in yours despite its size.
>[I forgive you] you say.
>Tapeesa looks on the verge of tears but manages to hold them back.
>[Can I ask you something?] you say.
>She can only nod.
>[Do you…ever regret choosing me as her Father?]
>[Please. Please answer me honestly.]
>Now it’s her turn to hold your hands in hers.
>[When I was still pregnant. Yes. Yes I did. I was afraid of what I might birth.]
>[But the moment you put her on my chest and I held her in my arms. All I felt was shame for having such thoughts.]
>[Without you, there would be no her. And she is the most precious thing in the world.]
>[I know it doesn’t mean much, but I’m happy and content you are her Father. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be.]
>She could contain her tears.
>But you couldn’t.
>[She’s going to wake soon. You should go if you don’t want her to see you.]
>You nod as your hands leave hers and you begin to walk out.
>[Anon. I don’t…I don’t know if she will forgive you for this.]
>[That’s alright] you say, smiling at the sleeping child.
>[There is nothing in the world that would make me stop loving her.]
>With that said you leave Tapeesa’s hut.
>You would never see her again.


No!
     No! No!     No!
                            I can hear my mother calling out to me from the distances frantically but I ignore her.

I couldn’t believe her.
He would never do something like this
Just get up and leave one day and never come back

I run to the delta to catch him and punch him and hurt him and cry and scream and yell and make him come back home and apologize to me a million and one times while I cry into his chest he will hold me and let me know he will never do something like that to me again

                                                    He had left hours ago but it seemed that he would be there just because I willed it

I could see the whole thing play out in my mind I would find him at the foot of his boat as he steps into it he’s just about to leave as I catch him and yell out to him

                            Daddy!
                                             Don’t leave me!

And before he could do anything I would wrap my arms around him and he would see the error of his ways and return home

We would go hunting and fishing and he would read to me that evening like he always did

                                                           But I got there

                                                              I got to the river

and no one was there
not even a trace
and I collapse on the ground and I roll and kick and scream
my eyes are red and my nose is running

He just abandoned me
             and I remembered the dream with the fire
       and it said it would fade away in time
                                                 but he didn’t do that!
                  the fire didn’t fade
             it jut left when I was but an ember
                                                How?
How could I be a flame as grand and as beautiful as he was when he left me in the dark barely holding it back

I wanted to curse his name so that it would echo throughout the land and reach his ears

I wanted him to hear just how much he had hurt me and I wanted him to be hurt as well
I want the fiber of every strip of bark of every single tree to be embedded with the bile I felt towards him in that moment.

But nothing came
                                  I didn’t even let out a gasp

Just a low pitiful whimper

                                                      Daddy
                                                Where did you go
                                                            I miss you


Chapter Three: Translations in South Africa

Hey Miss! Hey Miss! BETTY! You fucking drunken sow! Me and my mates have been waiting for our pints for ages now! Fuckin’ new girl am I right fells? Thinks just because she’s got a pretty face she can take her sweet ass time working. LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING BETTY! YOU CAN WORK AS A BARMAID OR AS ONE OF THE GIRLS UPSTAIRS! BWAHAHAHAHA, fuck me that’s a good one. Did you see her face? Yeah that’s right. Thank you for the pints. See? Was that so hard? Oh come on baby don’t give me that look, here’s a few shillings for you trouble. And don’t mind the lads, we’re just playing around!

Alright. Wooo~ that’s still good beer, even if its warm. Now where was I? Um…fuck yeah. Okay so like I was saying, I got no fuckin respect for soldiers. Bunch of braindead pissants who need to be told which way a cock goes in a gash you hear me? You wouldn’t believe the fuckin shit I’ve seen in my day let me tell you! Alright so about twenty years ago when I was still a young lad I went over to the heart of Africa to find me fortunes and all of that. I did some work in the Congo before I headed south and found myself in them Boer Republics. Talk about terrible fuckin timing. That’s when the Brits arrive for the second time and just started burning everything to the ground, whole towns were flattened and they just ripped crops out of the ground so the Boers couldn’t eat. I was basically trapped and had turned to thieving and robbing folks on the road. Hoping I could pay some boatman or what have you to get me the hell out. Turns out that didn’t work too damn well and I got caught by a regiment of Brits about to shoot me thinking I was a Boer. I tried to explain to them my situation all proper like and tell ‘em that I was no fuckin Boer but they didn’t really care much. They chained my hide up and sent me off to some prison camp for civilians. Van Zyl I think they called it.

Aye, look at that! You brought the second fuckin’ round and I didn’t even have to shout at you. See boys, she’s learning. Atta girl we’re so fuckin’ proud of you! I bet she’s a proper lay that lass. Now does that name sound familiar? Van Zyl? Cause it’s gonna in a bit. You won’t believe this shite. Now when I say this was a prison camp for civilians, what it really was was when the Brits took the wives and kids of the Boers and put ‘em in a camp and gave ‘em hardly any fuckin’ food. Starve their families to get ‘em to surrender was the basic plan. But I was lucky. They knew I wasn’t no Boer and I didn’t give a fuck about no wife and kids nonsense. So they gave me some menial job cleaning the camp and they didn’t cut my rations. Can’t say the same thing for the other poor bastards. Shit I saw would give a weaker man nightmares.

So while I’ve been there for a few months this new up and coming officer gets stationed over there. I heard he had helped put down the Chinks on the other side of the world. He was all prim and proper in his little uniform. Clean shaven Human with one of those military cuts. This guy man, this fucking guy looker all dapper in his outfit and had that authoritative voice those officer types have. But Good Lord was he fucking stupid. He didn’t know right from wrong unless someone with a bigger fuckin’ rank told him what was what. 

Now I’m serious you’re not gonna fuckin’ believe me when I say this. Some of you younger lads may not remember this, but the rest of you saw the photos in the paper from the camps right? You remember the really bad one with the little girl? The fucking ‘er Dog girl. Didn’t look much older than like eight years old. Yeah! That’s right! That one! God just thinking about that fucking photo gives me shivers. Anyone remember her name?


Lizzie that’s right! Little Lizzie. They didn’t even have her last name on their fuckin’ records. Well she was at my camp! Yeah she was in the little hospital where the rest of the sick kids were. I remember those fuckin’ nurses man. Those fuckin’ old washed up cunts with a dryer fuckin’ gash than the Sahara. That little kid didn’t speak a lick of English, only that Boer language, cuz she was of course, a fuckin Boer. No Brainer right? Well not to these stupid hags. They thought she couldn’t speak English because she was slow in the head. I tell ya, there is nothing in life more ugly than an uppity English slag.

So this fuckin soldier. This Captain or what have you took a bit of a liking to this girl. I guess he was just bored guarding a damn camp after shooting down bucked toothed humans and skinning Pandas or whatever the fuck. And it turned out he could pick up her language pretty easily. I had picked up some of it working at the camp. And while cleaning or whatever I could hear their conversations.


                                                         Where is Mom?

                                                          I don't know

                                                   Can you find her for me?

                                                 I don't... think she is here.

                                            My Daddy is big and strong like you.

                                                             Yeah?

                                            He is going to get me out of here.
                                         I will let him know how nice you are to me.

                                          When did you see your Father last?

                                             About two years ago I think.

                                          Do you remember what he looks like?

                                Yes! He is human like you! With brown hair and a thick blond mustache!
                                            He will deliver me from this place.
                                             And you will visit us on our farm.

                                              What is your Daddy's name?

                                                          Rhett.
                                              He gave me my Grandmother's name.
                                   But I don't like the full name, so I just go by Lizzie.



Some really cutsie shit. Makes your fuckin’ heart melt and all that. Now look at that! Third round! Smart girl you are! Yeah take all these fuckin’ empty glasses will ya hun. Thanks sweetheart. See? All she needs is some encouragement. Christ look at the bum on her. You ever seen a lizard with a rump that fuckin’ fat~

Now what you gotta understand about these sorts of places was that they were very strict with their food rations. You couldn’t bring in food to that little kid hospital for example. The nurses wouldn’t allow it. They basically gave these tots a “broth” which was nothing more than vegetable flavored hot water and called it food. A lot of them lost a good amount of weight. Their fuckin’ faces all hollowed out and shit, their fur slowly falling off of ‘em. They were a foot in the grave to begin with. But fuckin’ Lizzie man, that was the worst one. She was always covered with a blanket so I didn’t see what was underneath until she had already past and they started taking pictures of her and stuff to send to newspapers in London. Did you actually read any of the fuckin’ shite that wrote in that? Fuckin’ journalists should be hung.

But back to this fuckin soldier man. You know, it looks like he’s a nice enough guy right? Cares for the little children and all of that-


                                                      I'm hungry.

                                                      I’m Sorry


But this stupid fuckin bloke, never once thought to give her some food. Actually he did, at one point, like a week before she passed away he showed up at the hospital with a meat stew.



                                              Is there nothing to eat?

                      Rations have been cut. The hospital won't allow me to bring any food in.



But when he did, the nurses flew into such a rage. Talking about how it was against the rules and this was the Commander's orders and he had no right to be bringing that in there.

                                                     I miss Mommy.

                                                        I know

                                                 Have I been a bad girl?



But I mean really? Think about it? What was the worst thing that could have happened to him if he just shoved that dumb old bitch out of the way and gave the girl a real meal? 



                               What? No, you've been a very good girl. Why would you think that?

                 Because Daddy should have rescued me. But he must think I'm a bad girl and doesn't want me anymore.

I tell ya what would have happened. Fuckin’ nothing. He would have been brought to the Commander who would have ‘reprimanded’ him with a slap on the fuckin’ wrist. But he didn’t think of it like that. Wanna know why? Cuz even though he was some hoighty toighty Officer he was still a dumb fuckin soldier only thinking what was right and wrong through what some bigger asshole has to say. He didn’t go and feed that damn girl because it was against the orders. And going against orders is bad.



                 That's not true. Your dad is still out there. He will come for you. Just wait a little longer.



Jesus Christ, my fuckin’ two year old granddaughter has a better grasp on right and wrong than that fuckin’ idiot. And you know what the worst part is? He figured it out. Right when she died and the Commander had those photos sent to London. That guy figured out he just made the biggest fuck up on his God damn soul. Yes, dummy, it turns out giving children food ain’t such a bad thing after all. Well let me tell you something, when he pieced that stunning revelation together, he was fuckin’ pissed.

And you won’t believe what he did next! The crazy fuckin’ bastard~



Chapter Four: Paradiso

>[That’s a big buck you caught, Claire!”] 
>I smile and hold up a bundle of fish.
>[That’s not all I hauled] I say to the impressed villagers [I know Yoskolo has been asking for fish.]
>[Go and give him some] one of the men say as they take the dead caribou off my shoulders, careful to untie the ropes I used to keep the carcass in place.
> [we’ll get this skinned and butchered.]
>I nod as sigh contently as my aching shoulders feel the relief. Though it turns into a frown when I look out towards the sea.
>[Come on, Claire, no use worrying about that. Yoskolo is hungry.]
>I nod quickly at the brief scolding as I hurry towards Yoskolo’s hut.
>The old seal was completely blind and infirmed now.
>He couldn’t move much without help and he had to rely on the older women to keep him bathed and fed.
>Normally he was out of his hut just so he could get some fresh air and listen to the ocean, but he had recently caught a chill. He was thus moved back inside.
>He was still technically the village chief but a small group of the males had formed a council to make decisions for the village, with Yoskolo’s advice of course.
>[Uncle] I say affectionately, [I have some fresh fish for you.]
>He grumbles incomprehensibly for a few moments before turning in my direction.
>[C-Claire? That’s very good, put some in front of me and make us both some tea. I’ve had no company today.]
>I roll my eyes as I place two fish on the table in front of him and gently raise his hands over them so he could find them easily. The old coot wasn’t lonely, I knew for a fact that all of the older women had been pampering him this morning. He just liked the attention that came with complaining.
>I pet his head. His fur had thinned out so much over the past decade. He always needed to be bundled up since he couldn’t insulate himself from the cold anymore.
>For a while nothing is said as he greedily munches on the fish. His teeth had worn down and some had even rotted and fallen out. Tougher meats like Caribou were difficult for him to eat so he mostly lived off of tea and soft fleshed fish.
>[Is that ship still at the sea?] he asks before diving into the second fish, the juices dribbling off his chin.
>[Yeah…] I say slowly as I sit down besides him with the tea. [They haven’t moved since they came here four nights ago.]
>[Peculiar.] Yoskolo say as he licks away some meat on a fish bone. [Well your Father did tell us they would come back some day.]
>[Yeah…].
>The old seal senses my apprehension and places his hand over mine. It was a kind gesture, despite the fur on his fingers being greasy from the fish guts.
>[He would be stunned if he could see you how tall and strong you’ve become.]
>He said it so sweetly that I felt bad when all I could do was frown in return.
>[But he won’t see me. That was his decision.] I say bitterly.
>[Now Claire…]
>[I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound unkind.] I respond quickly, wishing to change the subject.
>Yoskolo only sighs as he awkwardly reaches for his teacup.
>[I wonder if they are from Anon’s same tribe.] He says
>I can only chuckle at Yoskolo’s naivety on the outside world. Though it’s not like I am much better.
>[They are] I reply [There is a flag tied at the top of the ship that identifies them. It’s the same one that Dad showed me when I was little.]
>He actually drew it for me in my notebook. I remember how warm I felt in his lap when he told me what the colors were.
>Like Yoskolo I asked him what his tribe was called. He corrected me by saying that it wasn’t a tribe, but an “Empire”. He called it Great Britain.
>And that very same flag was now perched on top of that ship.
>[Do you… think he’s on that ship?] I mumble quietly.
>[Anything is possible dear.] Yoskolo says. [But I wouldn’t get your hopes up.]
>[I wasn’t hoping!] I cry out, flustered. [I was just wondering, that’s all.]
>Yoskolo chuckles as he finishes his tea. 
>[How is your Mother by the way? Are you two still not getting along?]
>My wordless grumbles pretty much answer his questions.
>[I’ve been staying at Dad’s old hut now. I don’t think I’m living with her anymore from now on.]
>The elderly seal nods deeply at your words.
>[Do what you must, though it is important to mend relations with her. Bad feelings towards one’s parents brings ill omens.]
>[About ten winters late on that one, Uncle] I spit out snidely.
>[CLAIRE!] Despite his old, weak body and frail voice. I immediately feel like a chastised little girl.
>[Your Father had his reasons-]
>[I’ve heard all of that a hundred times] I complain. I stand up and begin to head for the door.
>[Both you and Mom keep telling he ‘he had his reasons’ and then I’m not allowed to be upset at what he did. I have to just bear it like it’s another dead buck on my back.]
>[Wait, Claire dear-]
>I exit the hut before I can hear him say anything else. I’m skulking as I walk home, angrily eyeing that damn boat. It was the cause of all of this.
>Things just couldn’t be forgotten and healed. They had to be dredged up and old wounds reopened.
>The scar wasn’t bad enough apparently.
>I still remember when I was little and I had run to the river to catch him.
>I hate that river now. I do my best to avoid it because it still looks exactly the same as it did back then.
>Empty.
>Empty of him.
>And now with all of these horrible feelings and thoughts I have to go back into that house again.
>Mom said I wouldn’t last a week in there before I came back to her.
>I hate how she knows me so well.
>Every time I got into a fight with her I would run off to this old hut to get away.
>But I would come back shortly because it reeked to much of Dad.
>Sleeping there. Alone. Proved too painful.
>And now its only because of my stubbornness to prove Mom wrong that I’ve lived in here for two weeks.
>It’s awful.
>I wonder
>When did I stop crying?
>And after I stopped, when did the numbness go away?
>When did I move on?
>I wish I had kept a record of something like that. To be able to point at a specific date, a year, the absolute minute when everything stopped hurting so much.
>When I was younger I would wake up and I would still think he’s right there, snoring peacefully, his mere presence protecting me from a bad dream.
>Or I thought I would open my eyes to see him lighting the Qulliq and cooking breakfast.
>But every time I did wake up, it was just cold and dark.
>I lay down in the pile of pelts and pull the blanket over me.
>I shiver as I bundle up the pelts around me and nuzzle my face against them.
>That stupid boat…
>All it did was bring back that numbness that I thought I conquered.
>Did I even move on? 
>All I can think of right now are those prayers he taught me.
>Because as much as I detest him, it’s only because despite it all I can’t stop loving him.
>I wish I could hate him. But even trying to say it…
>”I hate you.”
>Oh God, no, I can’t do it.
>I think I’d rather die and I hate myself for it.
>I’d rather die than give him what he deserves.
>I feel pathetic.
>Stupid boat…
>I wish I could pray, and beg some higher power to bring him back so I could smack him around and curse and let him know how horrible of a person he is.
>And then I could just cry into his chest for the next month straight.
>I bring my tail between my legs and hug it.
>My sleepy thoughts are nothing but misery.
>“God I miss you, Dad.”
>“I miss you so much.”


>I wake up smelling the lingering smoke from the flamed out Qulliq and to a soft rattling at the hut’s entrance.
>[Come. Come in.] I say groggily as I try to untangle myself from my nest of furs.
>A large male seal quickly shuffles inside.
>[Oh! I’m sorry Claire, I didn’t know you were still sleeping.]
>[It’s fine, Toklo, what is it?] I say grumpily as I move over to light up the Qulliq.
>I was hoping to sleep in and rest after yesterday’s hunt. Oh well.
>[It’s that big boat…] Toklo says quietly.
>[What, it moved?] I ask, not expecting my curiosity to be piqued this early in the morning.
>[Not quite, but they’ve dropped a smaller boat and are coming this way. There are a few men in it.]
>I stop my attempts at igniting the Qulliq’s wick, slightly shocked at the news.
>[You’re the only one who can speak with them] He says nervously [I was told to come get you.]
>I sigh as I grab my coat and begin to put on my boots, not even bothering to change my clothes.
>[I haven’t spoken that tongue in many seasons.] I try to explain [I’m not even sure how much I remember.]
>[It’s either you or nothing.]
>I shrug, accepting my fate as we begin to leave the hut.
>[Where are they currently rowing towards?] I ask.
>[Near the mouth of the river.] Toklo replies.
>I let out an annoyed chuff, that was where all the mud and soot was.
>I wasn’t in the mood to get my pelts all filthy.
>[I’m not talking to them there.] I explain [I’ll wait for them to get out of muck and I’ll greet them then.]
>Toklo rubs his hands nervously.
>[Shouldn’t you talk to them as soon as-
>[If I’m going to be the one speaking, I’ll do it on my own terms!] I snap back angrily.
>I couldn’t deny just how aggravated I was at the whole thing. 
>That stupid boat alone brought back those awful memories and feelings.
>Now I would have to speak that damn language.
>And I would have to speak to what I could only think of were carbon copies of my Dad.
>And I would have to be ‘polite’ about the whole thing.
>I always needed to be reasonable and understanding towards others.
>While at the same time it felt like the whole world was spitting in my face.
>[I’ll get some of the men to come with you] Toklo says as he begins to exit the hut
>[I’ll be at the village soon] I reply softly, feeling bad for shouting at him.
>Thankfully there was still some left over fish I devoured messily for breakfast.
>After stopping by the shoreline to wash my face I go to the village where as promised I see the group of males waiting for me.
>One of them points to the sea beyond.
>And there they were, rowing straight for the Delta.
>They were going to have some trouble getting through all that mud and water.
>[We’ll wait for them on the Hill overlooking the river.]
>They all nod at my plan. I was after all the only one who could actually speak to these people.
>[We’ll probably be waiting awhile…] I mutter annoyingly.
>Why? Why the Hell would they go through the Delta?
>Only an idiot would do that.

>Watching them trek through the Delta in the distance was the only way to relieve the boredom of waiting for them.
>For the most part, it was amusing to watch their feet get trapped beneath all the silt and mud and fall face first into the water.
>It was happening so often that the men began to play a game guessing which one would fall over next.
>As they slowly got closer I could make out more details about them.
>There were five, all human.
>They looked…nothing like my Dad.
>Their faces had no hair and the hair on the top of their heads was very short.
>I could actually see their jawlines and smooth cheekbones.
>In comparison, Dad almost looked more like us than them, with his matted, thick hair and a beard that always seemed to get tangled in itself.
>While Dad always seemed to walk in strength and confidence, these men were awkward and clumsy.
>They were…soft. Even if some of them carried rifles I couldn’t help but look at them as harmless.
>Could these people shoot a bow? Or better yet, break a Caribou’s neck with their bare hands?
>I thought all humans would be like my Dad. I couldn’t help but be relieved when none of them looked like him. I was dreading the idea of having to speak to some cheap imitation of the real thing.
>Though I have to admit I am a little disappointed.
>Eventually they get to the foot of the hill, soaking wet and their faces splattered in mud.
>[Did we bring any pelts?] I ask.
>[No.]
>[Can someone go to the village and get some so that they may dry off?]
>One of the men nods and begins jogging back.
>I begin to slowly walk down the hill.
>Out of the five men, four of them were in the same clothes and carried a rifle.
>I suspect that they were soldiers like my Father.
>The fifth one however, looked quite out of place.
>He carried a massive backpack which contrasted humorously with his small status.
>He looked older with brown hair that was graying and a small stubby nose.
>The soldiers looked to him expectantly.
>I raise my eyebrow as he drops his pack and begins to rummage through it before pulling out a notebook. It reminds me of the ones I used to practice my writing with.
>He opens it to a specific page and nervously looks up at me.
>It only just occurred to me that I tower over all of these men.
>Dad left before I got my growth spurt.
>Mom was taller than him obviously, but I never noticed….
>Wasn’t he intimidated by all these huge seals?
>Instead he took my Mom and-
>[HELLO! ARE YOU HOW?]
>What
>[WE WISH TO TALKSPEAK AS GOODLIEST FRIEND]
>okay wait-
>[I AM JEREMIAH! WHAT YOUR NAME HOW BE?]
>The seals behind me quite literally cannot stop laughing.
>This…isn’t how I was expecting this to go.
>The smaller man, Jeremiah, evidently, looks at me puzzled.
>He’s probably wondering if he said anything wrong.
>“I can speak English” I say dully.
>Jeremiah practically squeaks at me and the other four men look at me wide eyed.
>“How? Who taught you?” He asks stunned.
>I don’t answer as I hear the other seal coming back with pelts and blankets.
>“Not now.” I say “You are wet and filthy. We will get you clean and dry and then we will talk.”
>My English feels awkward. It’s too formal. It wasn’t like this when I was with Dad.
>Now it was as if my tongue was constantly straining to get the words right and not revert back to my native tongue….
>No
>English was my native tongue too.
>I don’t remember ‘learning’ English.
>I see one of the soldiers step forward and takes off his cap.
>His nose is large and slightly crooked with a small tuft of blond hair on top of his head
>“Would you have any food to share?” He asks “The journey through the river mouth has left us tired and hungry.”
>I nod at him.
>“We will take you to our village. Next time don’t go through the Delta. There is a spot close to our village that you can row to instead.”
>The man nods as his climbs to the top of the hill. I can smell the salty seawater all over him.
>“I am Lieutenant Rexis. We were sent to-
>“Enough of that.” I say sternly “We will not speak of this until all of you have been cleaned up at the village. You will speak with our Elder afterwards.”
>Though he tried to hide it, it was clear that Rexis was put off by me ordering him around.
>He seemed to swallow his pride though.
>Typical men.
>“May I at least know your name.” He asks politely enough.
>I look at him for a brief moment before beginning to head back to the village.
>“Claire.”
>“Claire? That’s an English name.”
>“It is.”


>I was wrong when I said they would speak to the village elder.
>Yoskolo’s illness had crept back up again and he was put to bed early.
>It was decided among the village council to keep our guests in Dad’s old hut until tomorrow.
>Which meant I had to go back to Mom for the sake of decency…
>Ugh.
>I’m not looking forward to that. So I decided to spend as much time playing host to the five men for as long as I could.
>I’m hoping that by the time I get home Mom will already be asleep.
>“I must say, your English is remarkably good. Though a bit stiff.” Jeremiah said in between sips of his tea. “I feel that I’m nowhere near as talented at speaking your language.”
>“No, not quite.” I say, stifling a giggle. “But you amused the others, they were all on edge before you spoke.”
>“Oh…” Jeremiah says, a little disheartened. “Well at least I could contribute some how.”
>Rexis gives the little man a hard pat on the back, prompting a small “oof”
>“Ah, don’t be too hard on yourself. I can’t believe you can speak anything with those secondhand notes you’re using.”
>I hum to myself as the continue to talk, flipping over the meat on the Qulliq and preparing more water to boil.
>“I must disagree, Lieutenant. Anon was no Oxford scholar, but his writings have been immeasurably helpful.”
>All of them turn to me as they hear the small clay pot shattered and splash water on the floor.
>My eyes go wide and I think I even bare my teeth slightly from all the facial tics I must had been making.
>“Who?” I ask slowly
>“Who was that you just named?”
>The others all look at each other nervously.
>“We’re sorry, Ma’am” one of the soldiers say “We didn’t mean to upset-
>“How do you know him!” I demand. “How do you know that name?”
>Rexis puts his arms out and stands in front of the others.
>Maybe he was afraid I was going to hurt them.
>I guess with how tall I was he had a fair point.
>“Hey, hey now. Let’s make some more tea and we’ll talk about it. No need to get upset.”
>I freeze mid-hysteria.
>Was I really such an emotional wreck that the mere mention of his name would send me over the edge?
>I take a deep breath. I turn around and begin to pull the slightly charred meat out of the Qulliq.
>“I am sorry for my outburst….there is another pot over there. Can one of you get it for me?”
>I’m lucky I had stored some water beforehand, else I would have had to make a trip to the river.
>“Just please…tell me what you know of him.”
>The humans all look at each other. Not even the smell of the cooked caribou was distracting them.
>Eventually they all looked at Jeremiah.
>“Well, um, Miss…” Jeremiah began anxiously “Mister Anonymous lived here for a number of years, you remember him I presume?”
>I can only nod.
>“Well he was exiled here and was on a mission from the crown to learn the language…among other things. Your language is completely oral so he made the first written transcription of Siglitun- A very difficult feat I must say. His linguistic ability was quite incredible. Myself and the rest of the Oxford Phonetics department were stunned when his notes showed up in our-
>“Exiled?” I ask, interrupting him. “He was exiled? No one ever told me that…”
>Jeremiah turns to Rexis “I believe you would know more about…that than I would.”
>Rexis takes a bit into the meat. I cringe when I hear the crunch. I cooked it for too long.
>“It’s not like I ever met the man, Jeremiah. I don’t even know where to start with someone like him.”
>“Just tell her the Axt-Träger story!” One of the soldiers piped up.
>“Or about what he did in Peking!”
>“Shut up! Both of you” Rexis shouts back before turning back to me.
>“I just want to know why he came here.” I reaffirm.
>“Well…” Rexis says, scratching his head “The story I heard was that he had been imprisoned and was set to be executed for high treason to the Crown.”
>“What?!” I say, shocked “Why?”

>“Well he had been stationed in South Africa at some prison camp.” Rexis begins
>“And one day he marched into the Warden’s office, took a pistol and shot him in the head.”
>“Couldn’t tell you why he did that though. From what I’ve heard, the guy’s always been a bit of a lunatic.”

>“He sure was, Lieutenant! Seriously, tell her the Axt-Träger one!”
>“Oh come one man, we’ve all heard that one a thousand times! The Peking one is so much better!”
>“Wait. You met him right miss? You must got some crazy stories of your own about him.”
>“Yeah! What’s the Axt-Träger like-
>“All of you shut up!” Rexis barked out.
>All I could do was stare numbly into my teacup.
>Did I…know anything about him at all?
>Why didn’t he tell me any of this?
>I guess that ties into why he left me.
>Would I just have to accept this as well?
>My Father left and it turns out he was nothing more than a friendly stranger to me.
>“If you don’t mind me asking…how old are you?” Rexis asked “It’s hard to tell age with um…your kind.”
>I slowly look up at him.
>I could hide the tears beginning to form.
>“Around 20 this year I think…”
>I could see in real time as his mind began to put the pieces together.
>“He…he taught you English.”
>“Yes, he did.”
>“And your name…Claire…”
>“Yes, that too.”
>His eyes widened and his nostrils began to flare as he suddenly realized the scope this had all taken.
>The others didn’t seem to understand.
>“You’re his…daughter?” he says curiously.
>I couldn’t say anything, only nod my head rapidly.
>The rest of the group had a look of stunned terror on their faces.
>Rexis hangs his head and stares down at the ground.
>“A thousand pardons, Miss. We didn’t know and we were being…insensitive.”
>Maybe just to give myself something to do I reach for his cup and pour more tea.
>“It’s alright.” I say “I’m happy I learned something about him today. It just makes sad that I don’t know him as well as you all seem to.”
>“That’s not true!” Rexis exclaimed. “None of us have ever met the man. You’re his child! You would know more about his character than any of the rubbish we’ve heard.”
>I turn to Jeremiah, who had been silent throughout this whole exchange.
>“You said you have his notes.” I ask “Did he give them to you in person?”
>“Not so, I’m afraid.” he replies “Everything he wrote was deemed property of the crown and confiscated. Later his journals in relation to your language were generously donated to my department.”
>I nod at the little professor’s response and turn back to the Lieutenant.
>“He left when I was still a child. I feel I don’t know him better than you do.”
>“I’m sorry.” Rexis says
>“Just tell me, and please answer honestly.”
>“Is he…is he still alive?”
>I was taken aback at how nonchalantly Rexis shrugged his shoulders.
>“Probably. I know he made it through the Great War. I heard he lives in Britain now. No idea where though.”
>Well that’s a relief I guess.
>I’m happy I didn’t have to hear that he died years ago.
>I shakily stand up. 
>“I’m sorry, but it’s rather late. I’ll take my leave. If our elder is feeling better we will have you meet him and discuss your business.”
>“I was told earlier this is your house.” Jeremiah said “We’re terribly sorry for the intrusion.”
>“It’s…not my house. Truth be told I usually live with my Mother.”
>“Oh. Then who-
>“It was my Father’s.”
>“He built this hut before I was born.”


>I roll over grumbling, trying to rub the sleep and crust out of my eyes.
>[I wonder when you’d wake up.]
>I groan as I sit up to face Mom.
>[Would you like some fish?] She asks, dangling one by the tail.
>I only let out a small grunt before she plops it in my hand.
>[Get out of the pelts first. I don’t want you making a mess of my blankets.]
>[Yes, Mom] I mumble out as I move closer to the qulliq for warmth.
>[I was wondering when you’d turn up again] she says before sinking her fangs into a raw fish, causing blood to ooze out.
>I nibble on my meal in comparison.
>[The people on the big boat showed up. I gave them Dad’s hut to sleep in for the night so I came here.]
>[I see. I heard about that.] She spits out a bone.
>God she’s such a messy eater, what did Dad ever see in her?
>[And when they are gone will you be living there once more?]
>The way she said that it was like the last fight we had didn’t even happen.
>She was so distant, so apathetic about everything around her it seemed.
>[I don’t know…] I say sheepishly in-between bites.
>[Well make up your mind. I’m tired of you running between huts. Pick one and stick to it.]
>I nod quickly, eager to change the subject.
>[Those…Humans, they knew Dad.]
>For a moment I feel as if I made a terrible mistake. The silence that suddenly filled the hut bearing down on me. Even the crackling fires of the qulliq seem to sputter out for a second.
>[Do they now?] she replied calmly
>[Well, not know I guess, but they’ve heard of him.]
>[Hmm, seems to be a good chance to ask any questions you’ve had about him] she says.
>[Well I did ask about why he came here and I learned he-
>[Claire.] she interjects. [Do not tell me. I don’t want to know.]
>[But you said-
>[I have no curiosities about your Father. I figured him out a long time ago and accepted him for who he was.]
>I wanted to point out that that clearly was not the case since they never lived together.
>But I didn’t want to start another fight on the actual first morning I moved back home.
>[But I imagine what they told you…] she began [wasn’t very flattering.]
>[No…it wasn’t.] I admitted [They were in awe of him, but they also seemed afraid of him. One of them even called him crazy.]
>Mom’s chest rises as she closes her eyes and lets out a long sigh
>[He made sure you never saw that part of him. And he tried to make sure I didn’t see it.]
>[What are you talking about Mom?]
>[I imagine the Males have told you once or twice about the wolves we used to have?]
>I raise my brown and curl my lip in confusion at the change of topic.
>[Um yeah, Dad mentioned it to me too. He lost two of his fingers in one of their attacks, right?]
>[Ha! Is that what he told you.] She covers her face as she begins to chuckle. [He was always quite good at hiding himself.]
>[Mom, I don’t understand!] I say, losing my patience.
>[He killed them all, Claire. Right before you were born he went out into the wilderness and in three days killed a pack of over 30 adult wolves along with their cubs.]
>What can someone even say to something like that?
>Nothing really prepares you when you hear stuff like this about your parents.
>How could I even respond?
>[Oh.]
>[I saw him do it. I watch him pry open the jaw of a beast. Even when his fingers were severed he didn’t stop.]
>[Why tell me all this now!]
>[Because I can’t stop those men telling you even more stories about the kind of person your Father was! It’s better if I tell you first.]
>[And what kind of person was he!] I scream at her.
>[HE WAS AMAROQ!] She shrieks at me.
>Her eyes soften as she looks at me cowed by her voice.
>[Not even a day…] I mutter [and we’re already fighting.]
>I bring my knees to my chest and bury my face in my hands.
>Why did every single thing need to be so difficult.
>I feel warmth on my back as Mom wraps a blanket around me and holds me close.
>I can’t even remember the last time we hugged….
>That fact alone fills me with deep regret and shame. I immediately return her affection.
>[I’m sorry] she says [I’ve never been good at being sensitive.]
>[No. You haven’t]
>We both laugh.
>[Oh my cub. My precious little cub.]
>I press my face against her bosom.
>She begins to slowly pet my head.
>[I know it’s hard to believe. But your Father loved you. I don’t think he could ever love himself, so he gave it all to you.]
>I try to squeeze my eyes to stop the tears from trickling in.
>[But he couldn’t love himself because he was…different from others. I once thought him a noble warrior. But I was wrong. He… was always hungry to fight, to shed blood, to kill. And when I discovered my folly…I couldn’t…I couldn’t live with him.]
>I hiccup and sniffle as I look up at her.
>[I don’t want you to know who he really was suddenly…and feel about him the same way I do. He was scared of that himself. He didn’t want you to be afraid of him…as I was.]
>I can’t help but sigh and laugh at the same time.
>Why was it that my family had to be so complicated?
>I grew up watching all the other children go home to two parents.
>While I was denied the same thing for reasons I never had a say in.
>Now I find out my Dad was, or is, some kind of monster.
>What else could I do but laugh at it all.
>[I still miss him] I say.
>[I know] Mom replies, [So you better get dressed and meet those men. They seem to know an awful lot about him.]
>[Hardly] I explain. [Just stories they’ve heard…I don’t know if I want to hear tall-tales about Dad…considering what they probably are.]
>[Even the most ridiculous of myths have a sprinkling of truth in them] Mom says, [If you want to actually know who your Father was deep down you’re going to have to accept some harsh facts about him.]
>She lets go her hold on me and stands up. I wince as I suddenly feel Mom whack the back of my head.
>[Now get dressed and get out of my house! You have errands to run today!]
>I grumble as I throw my coat on and scramble out of the house.
>Luckily it seems the humans have woken up by the time I get there.
>Rexis is standing by the entrance munching on a fish.
>“Good morning, lovely weather I must say” he says between bites.
>“You won’t be saying that when Winter hits. It can get pretty cold here.”
>“I reckon” Rexis replies. “It’s hard to believe your Dad lived here for 12 years. I wonder how he did it.”
>“It’s funny, he always seemed like he belonged here” I began, “he never looked out of place, as if he lived here his entire life.”
>“Well I guess that shouldn’t be too much of a surprise” he says. “He always seemed like the tough living kind of person…Oh hold on a second, I gotta make sure the boys are getting ready.”
>Inside the hut I can hear a lot of shouting and grumbling as Rexis begins to rouse the other men.
>It eerily reminds me of Mom.
>Once they’re all clothed and ready I begin to lead them to the village with only Rexis staying close to me.
>The others kept their distance.
>Maybe they were afraid I’d maul them now that they realized I was the daughter of a man they feared.
>“Nah, that’s not it. They’re just awkward around you. You’re the daughter of a legend, frankly. It’s like indirectly meeting their idol. They’re awestruck.”
>I can’t help but roll my eyes at Rexis.
>“Seems like my Father isn’t one you would want to idolize.”
>“Well a lot of the higher ups still hate his guts, but most of riff-raff really admire him, even if he is a bit crazed, no offense.”
>“None taken…I guess” I say. “Truth be told there were always little signs when I was younger.”
>“Yeah, like what?”
>“Well, once we had gone out hunting in a blizzard. And with all the snow we didn’t see a buck charge us. A few seconds later while all I did was scream in terror he broke it’s neck with his bare hands.”
>“Ha! That does sound like something Anon would do.”
>I frown at his response.
>“You aren’t even surprised?”
>“Everyone is when they first hear the stories” Rexis explains. “Like there is no way one man can do all of that. But as time goes on there are so many insane tales that when you hear a new one, it doesn’t really stun you like it used to.”
>“Well they all surprise me I guess.”
>Rexis’s eyes fall to the ground.
>“With all due respect, I don’t think you should be hearing half of those tales…I’ve told the boys to lay off all that stuff. It really isn’t proper to be speaking about it in the company of women, let alone Anon’s daughter.”
>“It’s because I’m his daughter that I deserve the right to know” I say frustratingly.
>Rexis is silent.
>“But I’d rather hear them from him than anyone else.”
>“Listen…” Rexis begins after a short while. “In six months we’re going to depart before the ice traps the ship in. We’ll be making a stop at Anchorage before heading along Canada’s west coast for warmer waters.”
>“I could send out a few telegrams to some blokes I know back home…see if they know anything.”
>I could practically feel my heart leap up into my throat and choke me.
>“You would do that?” I ask.
>“Heh, don’t think me too virtuous. You’ll have to get Jeremiah up to speed on your language so he can speak it without difficulty…seems he can’t pick it up as quickly as your Father could.”
>“He was always good with words, despite how little he actually spoke” I ponder. “The more I think about it…the more he becomes a contradiction. He’s an enigma I can’t understand.”
>“I think everyone gets confused by their parents when they grow up” Rexis adds in. “They aren’t protecting us anymore so we see them for who they are for the first time.”
>“Yeah…” I say quietly.
>“For years I thought he was just the Dad who abandoned me when I was a child, and I was so angry all the time afterwards. But now, with all of this, I’m still angry but I can’t justify it in my heart, despite justifying it in my head.”
>We reach the edge of the village, in the early spring it felt like a short walk. Though in the winter it would morph into an eternal trek.
>“You sound all scrambled up” Rexis says bluntly. “I assumed earlier you wanted to actually speak to him. Do you?”
>“Well I-I” I can’t finish stammer out a response before Rexis interrupts me.
>“I’m going to guess Anon’s fairly old right now. He was already aging when the Great War started. You might not have a whole lot of time to decide.”
>“Well!” I say in a huff “I have at least six months to decide don’t I?”
>“Aye” He replies. “That you do.”
>I shake my head, wanting to change the subject.
>“Come on, let’s see if Yoskolo is well enough to have visitors.”


>Spring and Summer flew by, even faster than usual.
>Maybe because this time there was a deadline.
>Caribou herds seem to flee faster when you know exactly when they’ll migrate.
>This seemed no different.
>Actually it was simpler than a hunt:
>Did I want to meet him?
>Or even know more about him?
>I could just…forget about him.
>That seems impossible, but I know…I know with time.
>The scar will fade and dull.
>I learned that from Mom.
>Her family, no her whole tribe, threw her out to die.
>I know why she’s so rough now.
>I can’t imagine that pain.
>But to her it’s…like any other wound.
>And here I am moping over one parent.
>While she lost everything.
>So I know…
>I know I could just forget and move on.
>Like this was any old scar.
>But unlike her I have a chance to…finish it?
>End it?
>What’s that damn word?!
>Conclusion!
>See this to its conclusion.
>If Mom was given that chance when she was younger, to meet them all again.
>Maybe even make amends.
>Would she have taken it?
>Even asking her that question is pointless.
>She would just say it doesn’t matter anymore.
>And what is the use of bringing up bad memories like that?
>But I didn’t know what I wanted to do.
>If I go digging…If I try to see this through…
>I may just hurt myself more.
>Learn something truly horrifying about my Father.
>Maybe all those wonderful memories I have of him were just an act.
>Maybe he’s just a bastard and was pretending to be nice to me.
>What if he saw me as some bastard whelp he couldn’t stand anymore?
>He was never the most affectionate person…
>What if he hated me?
>...
>And in those thoughts I answered my question.
>I have to do this.
>Because if I don’t those thoughts will plague me until I go insane and drown myself in the sea.
>The uncertainty of it all, of not knowing who he was and making random guesses in the dark.
>Without that flame of his to guide me…
>S I finally made my decision one month before Rexis’s ship was to leave for warmer waters.
>When he showed up on his rowboat I marched right up to him and told him I wanted to…
>“See Dad again.”
>Just saying those words felt like those old myths Mom used to tell, except I was living in one of them.
>It felt unreal.
>“Jesus, Claire” Rexis says as he pulls the Rowboat from the shore. “My boots aren’t even out of the water and you hit me with that?”
>“How?” I ask impertinently “How can you even do that? You said you never met him before.”
>With an annoyed grunt he finally hauls the rowboat safely away from the rising tide.
>“I got friends back home who I can wire. They’re all officers and such, things will trickle around. But it probably won’t be so easy. Most people up on the food chain despise your Father.”
>“Why?” I ask
>“Because he killed a high ranking commander and basically got away with it. For over two decades a lot of people have been itching to put him in front of a firing squad, and they’re still sore about it.
>“Well…” I reply “how did he manage to live if all the powerful people wanted him gone?”
>Rexis gives me a concerned look.
>“Your Father was friends with a few powerful people himself. That’s who I’m hoping to get in touch with. But no promises.”
>“Well…” I say smiling, making sure to show my teeth just slightly, “Jeremiah has gotten much better speaking. He’s even talking to the locals regularly. I say you own me a favour.”
> Rexis rubs his head, not even showing the slightest hint of being intimidated by my fangs.
>Damn… that always works on me when Mom does it…
>“Heh, I guess that’s a good point. I’ll get something worked out, on my honour.”
>I shrug, I don’t know how much his honour was actually worth. Must be a male thing.
>“When will you be back to tell me?”
>“Early Spring ideally” Rexis replies. “With the tribe’s help we can finally begin to build the infrastructure needed for whaling.”
>“Is that what you’re here for today?” I ask.
>“Yeah, finalizing the details with that Council of yours. The lands around the River Delta will be recognized as property of the Crown. Which means those loggers and other Canucks down south won’t be bugging you anytime soon,”
>“But you will?” I add in cautiously.
>Rexis only shrugs his shoulders.
>“Not like we want anything other than the whales. And we won’t just be whaling here, but through the whole damn sea. This’ll just be a little port for us. If all you want to do is hunt Caribou and fish, we frankly won’t care too much. You’re better off with us than risking it with the Canadians. Their history of dealing with Natives hasn’t been…kind.”
>I honestly couldn’t care less about all of that.
>Maybe I should have though, it all sounded pretty important.
>But all I could think about was next Spring.
>A year.
>In a year I would have my answer.
>I would get my chance.
>“I miss him” I say suddenly
>“I really do. It’s awful, this feeling. But I wonder If I just miss the memories of him, the dream of what he was to me, instead…”
>“Instead of what he actually was?” Rexis interjects.
>“Yeah, I guess.” I murmur embarrassingly
>“Well I would imagine that with the extraordinary tales I’ve heard and your warm recollections of him, he’s probably somewhere in the middle.”
>“Meaning?”
>“Your Father is not likely as good as you remember, and he’s probably not as bad as I’ve heard.”
>“It’s funny you say that.” I say “Most of the time I don’t I look back on him very fondly.”
>“The evil that men do lives after them” Rexis replies with a soft poetic twang, “The good is oft interred with their bones.”
>“Sounds like something Dad would read to my in his Bible.” I say
>“It’s Shakespeare, actually. Antony’s speech in Julius Caesar.”
>“I wouldn’t know anything about that. Dad only had his Bible, much to both his and mine chagrin.” 
>The two of us chuckle lightly as we reach the foot of Yoskolo’s hut.
>We could hear laughter inside.
>“Sounds like Jeremiah is already inside.” I say “Now that he can properly talk to Yoskolo the two have been attached at the hip.”
>It actually made me quite happy that Yoskolo had someone proper to talk to since his wife died. It always seemed that he felt lonely, even if he never admitted it.
>“That’s good to hear.” Rexis says, “I’d hate to burden you with translating.”
>I wave the soldier off before heading back to Mom’s hut.
>One more winter.
>One more Winter I would have to endure it.
>That aching numbness that had afflicted me since he left.
>Then when Spring came
>My fire would finally return
>And I would find the remnants of the ember who had gifted it to me in the first place.


>[I hear your Mother is bedridden with illness?] Yoskolo says
>[The Winter weather seems to have affected her this time] I affirm as I shake off the snow from my shoulders as I enter the Elder’s hut.
>The blind old seal can only grunt as he sips on his tea.
>[This season has been quite bad. Even with the qulliq raging and all the tea I still shiver.]
>I frown at this.
>[You should request the women to make you more blankets if you’re cold.]
>Yoskolo grumbles and waves the suggestion away.
>[No matter how many they gave me I’d still be shaking and rattling away, it’s just part of being old. The closer to death you are, the cooler the air around you becomes.]
>[You shouldn’t be so grim, Uncle.] I say affectionately as I pour him more tea.
>[There is nothing grim about the truth if it is spoken forthrightly.] Yoskolo says stubbornly.
>[Besides, the cold season will be over soon. I’ll be back to sitting on the grass hearing all of you work soon enough.]
>I snicker as I give him a quick hug from behind and a small peck on his cheek.
>[Sometimes I wonder if you can see perfectly fine] I say with a smile, [and you’re just playing a joke on us all.]
>[The women have accused me of the same thing as well!] He laughs out.
>We both chuckle as I move over and sit next to him, hoping my fur will help keep him warm.
>[Ahhh] he lets out, his laughter subsiding. [It’s a shame you’ll be leaving us in the Spring.]
>[What?!] I exclaimed, [What makes you say that.]
>[When the boat comes back you’ll head off with them to go find Anon, correct?]
>[That’s a big assumption] I explain. [Rexis may not have found him, or hey, maybe I’ll see him on the ship with them.]
>Yoskolo can only sigh as he sips lightly on his tea.
>[First the Father left, now it is the Daughter’s turn as well. These are the patterns laid out among the stars. You will go and find him.]
>We both sit there quietly for awhile, the only sounds being the crackling of the qulliq and the harsh wind blowing outside.
>[If…If I leave] I say, [will the village look after my Mother? She can fish for herself but I’ve always hunted for her.]
>[Ha!] Yoskolo let’s out. [You’re Father asked the same thing of me right before he left. I’d say you two are becoming quite similar, though Anon would probably be horrified by such a thing.]
>[What do you mean?]I ask, perplexed by the old seal’s words.
>[As you got older, Anon was afraid he’d be a poor influence on you. He was always scared that you’d inherit his viciousness instead of your Mother’s toughness.]
>[Until the very day he left, he thought of no one but you, Claire.]
>[Yeah? And after that?] I say but this time with only a small amount of bitterness.
>I’m getting better at handling the subject.
>[Well I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to forget about you, but found it impossible. I imagine that man has lived through much hardship, and leaving you was just another burden on an already heavy life.] 
>[At this point] I say, [it’s becoming so silly to keep bearing this grudge…but I still can’t find it in me to forgive him. Even if I say it, in my heart I know it’s not true.]
>Yoskolo chuckles, his foggy, blind eyes twinkle for a moment.
>[Maybe you are more like your Mother. She’s quite extraordinary when it comes to holding a grudge.] 
>I giggle but otherwise say nothing as I lean into the old seal.
>[Speaking of which, it’s getting late and the storm is only going to get worse] Yoskolo says. [You should hurry back to your Mother.]
>[Will you be alright by yourself?] I say concernedly as I pull away.
>[I’ll be fine, with the qulliq lighted I’ll be warm enough.
>[Well…okay, but I want you to ask the women tomorrow for more blankets. It worries me that you’re always feeling cold.]
>[Thinking nothing of it, Claire. I’m sorry for bringing it up.]
>I nod and reluctantly rise up. I lean down and kiss him on the brow.
>Just like how Dad used to do to me before I went to bed…
>[Good…Goodnight, Uncle.] I say with some difficulty as I begin to leave the hut.
>He grunts out a small goodbye as he begins to inch towards his pelts and blankets.
>Despite being blind he knew every detail of this house.
>[One more thing, Claire!] he says just before I leave.
>[Hmmm?]
>[Don’t be afraid.]
>[Huh? Of what-
>[Don’t be afraid when you finally meet him.]
>[I promise you he’ll be far more nervous than you will.]


>Well I finally managed to do it.
>I hunted down two caribou and carried them both to the village.
>Dad could never do it, on account on being so much smaller than seals.
>But with the ropes harnessed to my shoulders and back I could sling up two of them at once.
>Took years to build up the strength to do it though.
>But I’m feeling energized.
>This morning I saw that familiar ship practically float onto the sea.
>So I grabbed my bow and ran out into the wilderness.
>Actually ran at full speed.
>Just to get rid of all the pent up energy from my normally sleepy self.
>I hadn’t been paying attention and ran right into the middle of the herd.
>It was a wonder I wasn’t trampled when they scattered.
>So then I spent all morning and afternoon tracking the spooked beasts.
>When I killed the first one I stuffed it’s carcass into my net of seal skin rope, it’s back legs dangling over my shoulders.
>Its weight was heavy, but it was a heaviness I was used to. As if it was just another layer of clothing. 
>And I didn’t want to go to the village. Not yet.
>I still wanted to swim around in this feeling.
>This feeling of being alive.
>So I kept tracking.
>I wonder if the dead caribou’s scent ever alerted the rest of the herd.
>I found a young juvenile I knew I could carry and killed him with a single arrow to the jugular.
>That one I hauled over my shoulder, the ropes supporting him only slightly.
>It was a painful burden. My knees knocked and my joints burned as I headed back to the village.
>But it was a pain I enjoyed oh so much.
>The feeling of the carcasses bearing down on me, trying to crush me.
>And I defied them.
>I defied them all.
>The other seals looked at me in shock when finally came to the village.
>I unceremoniously dumped the seals on the ground and went on my knees, breathing heavy.
>“Jesus Christ, Claire!” I hear a familiar voice as I look up, stilling panting heavy.
>It’s Rexis, looking at me with wide eyes.
>“The village must think you’re some kind of monster!” He says as he walks over to me.
>“I wanted…two…um…”
> I’m tired and I haven’t spoken English in a year.
>The words are hard to come by at first.
>Even without saying anything, he seemed to understand my issue.
>“Caribou, Claire. You wanted two caribou?”
>I can only meekly nod my head as he offers me a hand.
>I swear he almost falls into me when I take it to pull myself up.
>“Are you here to see the council and Yoskolo?” I ask as I try to ignore my legs shaking.
>“Nah, that stuff’s not my job anymore. We got proper officials and Jeremiah to translate for them. I’m just here on guard duty.”
>“Oh” I reply, somewhat surprised. “Well…um” I stutter, I find it awkward to get to the topic I was actually interested in.
>Rexis only gives me that coy smile of his.
>“Come on, let’s get you some food, you must be starving after lugging those two bodies all over….is it alright if we just leave them here?”
>I nod “We have a butcher who deals with all of our hunts. Come on, I think I have some fish still wrapped up from yesterday.”

>Rexis was right, I pretty much forgot about Dad as I basically inhaled fish after fish as we ate close to the shoreline.
>He was the one who had to actually bring it up as I was too busy being a glutton.
>“So I have some info about your Father.”
>I think I stopped eating right when I was in the middle of sucking out the fishes juices.
>Very dignified.
>“Oh? and?” It’s hard to talk with my face stuffed with fish.
>He laughs lightly at me. I must have looked ridiculous.
>I really do eat like Mom…
>“Well I still don’t know anything about him, but I manage to get in contact with an old acquaintance of his.”
>“Yeah?” I say with baited breath and half chewed food still lingering in my maw
>“He is Sir Bertrand Hadlee, a retired Brigadier”
>“I have no idea what that means.” I say dumbfoundingly as I manage to swallow down the last of my food.”
>“It’s a military rank, much higher than mine.”
>“Oh who cares about all that?! How does he know Dad?”
>He ignores my comment and continues.
>“He’s a friend of your Father, they were apparently close during their days at the academy. When he contacted me he was pretty irate. Usually when people mention Anon it isn’t for good reasons.”
>It was still hard to imagine that it seemed like the whole world hated Dad or was outright afraid of him.
>I felt bitter towards him…but never real hatred, even if I was justified.
>And fear? I was more afraid of the cold snow than him!
>How could I ever be scared of him?
>How could I fear a man who tucked me into bed after I had a nightmare time and time again?
>Or practically squealed in joy when I made my first kill and hugged me so tight It felt like air would never enter my lungs again.
>“-but I mentioned you and he became very interested. It seems the two of us have formed a bit of a conspiracy to get you over.”
>My focus is brought back to Rexis as I raise my brow.
>“We had to be very careful about planning this, if word about your existence gets out…prematurely, things back home could get very hectic and quite complicated for you.”
>“You have a plan?” I ask nervously.
>Rexis grins at me, partially showing me his teeth.
>“At the end of the Summer, when we leave, you’ll be coming with us. And you’ll be staying with Sir Hadlee.”
>He stops himself and coughs slightly.
>“Erm, assuming that’s what you want.”
>I didn’t even blink before I gave him my answer.
>“Yes!”
>Rexis seems taken aback by my sudden response.
>“I swore you would have taken more time to-
>“I’ve been thinking about this for years at this point!” I shoot back.
>“I’m so tired of thinking, of winding myself up of endless ‘maybe’s, ‘buts’ ‘ifs’ and ‘whens’. I just want to do, to go out and stop feeling a dozen different emotions all at once. I’m still annoyed that I still have to wait a bit longer.”
>“Spring and Summer is really short around here though” Rexis interjects.
>“I don’t care! I want to be gone now!” I whine loudly.
>I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
>“At minimum I just want some closure….”
>“When he left he didn’t tell me, I was the only one who didn’t know. He never said goodbye to me, he just got up one day and left me.”
>“And the last time I saw his face, I didn’t know it would be the last time. It was rotten what he did, absolutely rotten. He was so strong and everyone acts like he’s this big, scary brute. But he didn’t even have the courage to tell me the truth…to say goodbye. And at the very least I’m gonna make him do that!”
>Rexis leans into me, placing his hand on my shoulder.
>“Do you want to hear something that might cheer you up?”
>“What?” I ask.
>“Hadlee confirmed when I asked about it. Anon is still alive and in relatively good health considering his age.”
>I don’t think I could clearly remember the last time I heard something new about Dad that actually made me smile and feel warm.
>“How old is he?”
>“Um, 52 I think. He’s getting on in years, but Sir Hadlee said….
>His voice fades out, like it was drowned out by a raging storm of a blizzard.
>But there is no snow, there is no storm.
>Except in my mine.
>My Father is old now…
>All this nonsense about goodbyes and I never wondered…
>How much time do I have left with him?
>And in his entire life…I only occupied 10 years of it.
>I’m…just a footnote. A unaccounted for stopgap in a life of conflict.
>I didn’t need to look at the stars to feel small.
>I could just think about him.
>When I turned 30…would he even still be alive?
>Not everyone has the longevity of Yoskolo. 
>And unlike Yoskolo, I couldn’t imagine there would be anyone to take care of him…
>Now I suddenly bombard myself with a thousand questions.
>Like is he taking care of himself properly?
>What does he do with himself?
>Does he have any friends?
>Or is he just by himself all the time?
>Oh God I hope he isn’t lonely!
>“Claire?”
>“Huh!? What is it?” I quickly turn my head, startled.
>“Are you okay? I think I lost you there.”
>“Oh, um, sorry. I just…wow I didn’t think he was that old.”
>“Does that bother you?” Rexis asks.
>“No I guess not. I just never really expected him to age. I mean Mom has definitely gotten older over the years…but Dad always seemed…timeless.”
>“Kinda sneaks up on you sometimes, doesn’t it?”
>“Yeah…” I mumble out.
>We both sit there for a little while. Finally silent before all that had and would transpire.
>“Ugh, I’m tired of thinking about it!” I snap. “It’s warm enough, I wanna go swimming.”
>Rexis’s confused look turns into one of horror when I begin to take off my outer layer of clothes.
>“C-Claire! What are you doing?! That’s highly indecent!”
>“Oh shut up! Dad was always such a prude too. What is it with you Human?”
>“Oh Lord, please Claire, keep your clothes on!”



>[You better hurry up if you don’t want to keep them waiting!]
>[Yes Mom!] I shout from outside as I hurry over to her hut to bring the fish.
>I know she can take care of herself.
>But I wanted things to be stockpiled for her, something she could ‘cushion’ herself with.
>[I got the last of the fish for you!] I say as I hold up the bundle of food.
>She only sighs and takes it from me.
>[You should have left right when the sun rose. If you delay any longer you might miss the ship.]
>[I know I know Mom.] I say frantically, trying not to stress out.
>[I just need to make sure your well off before I-
>She takes one of her fingers and presses it firmly against my snout. silencing me.
>[I. am. fine. It’s you I’m concerned for.] She says sternly.
>[Now go, before they all lose their patience with you!]
>I was ready to get into a fight right then and there.
>I try to make sure she’s stocked up on food.
>And she just hand waves me away.
>It’s just so….ugh typical of her.
>But I don’t want to leave arguing.
>So I just shrug my shoulders and nod at her, turning around to head out the door.
>[Claire, just wait a moment.]
>Oh, what now? First she says to go, now she-
>OOF
>I feel my head bounce and I lose my footing slightly as her body practically slams into mine.
>Her arms hold me close and pin my fur against hers.
>I feel her nuzzle my head and neck.
>[I love you, Darling.]
>[So so much.]
>[And no matter what I feel about your Father.]
>[I will always cherish him, simply because he gave me you.]
>[And you are brighter than the moon and stars.]
>[My sweet baby girl.]
>I don’t remember my arms around her.
>They were just…there as I buried my nose into her fur.
>[I love you too, Mom.] I manage to stutter out as she pulls away from me.
>She looks me straight in the eyes with that same fierce stubbornness she always had.
>That I’ve always had.
>[Find him.]
>[Find that man.]
>[I know he must miss you terribly.]



>At first I was excited to be on this giant ship.
>But I slowly grew to hate it.
>Everything was so cramped and constrained.
>The rooms were not built for someone of my…size.
>And the beds creaked at my weight.
>I wish I could just sleep on the darn floor
>I should have just brought my pelts with me.
>But I wanted Mom to have everything.
>Then came the clothes…
>Apparently my coats and pants made from pelts were not “civilized” enough.
>But there was almost nothing my size.
>Rexis managed to find an old army greatcoat laying around I could wear.
>Nix on any pants that could possibly get past my thighs though.
>So those had to stay on.
>Plus it was strange being an oddity on the ship. 
>The crew, most of them were Anthros, had never seen someone like me before.
>That was when I realized that it’s not only Humans that are smaller.
>Almost…everything is smaller than us.
>Seals must be like some mythical giants to them.
>Later on I heard that there were larger Anthros
>Particular Bears and Rhinos.
>The hell is a Rhino?
>But for the most part, anything as tall as me was a rare sight.
>When Rexis measured me, he said I was seven and a half feet.
>In comparison, most people in general are under six.
>I have to kinda snicker at that.
>I wonder if Mom snickered at Dad at how short he was.
>He must have really impressed her.
>“I’m surprised you’re taking all this in stride.” Rexis once said to me while we ate. “Most people get uncomfortable when they’re oogled at by strangers.
>I can only shrug.
>“I find it more amusing than anything else.”
>Later on I asked him how long it would take us to get there.
>He shrug nonchalantly as he said “Two months, maybe three depending on weather.”
>Which shocked me.
>That long on this cramped metal boat?
>But I guess it was time well spent learning various things about English life so I didn’t scare some old woman’s sensibilities.
>These people seem so stuffy.
>No wonder why Dad was out in the snowy wilderness.
>It seems so much better than all of this…
>In fact this seems quite horrible.
>I was beginning to miss the simple life of just hunting and fish and sleeping.
>Sure in this ship I never had to worry about the cold.
>And I was always well fed (their food took awhile to get adjusted to…)
>But I never felt free.
>I always had to make sure I was doing the right thing.
>How did Dad grow up like this?
>How did he live among all of this?
>...
>I guess…he really didn’t.
>People…were…are afraid of him.
>He grew up among them, and they rejected him.
>He didn’t belong in the place he was born in.
>And the worst thing was that it seemed like he was never angry or bitter because of it.
>He just accepted it.
>And then on that boat with practically nothing to do day-in and day-out.
>I began to think…
>Did he do more than accept that judgement?
>Did he agree with it?
>Did he seem himself as the way all these other people saw him?
>As the way Mom saw him…
>As a Monster.
>And in the darkness of my cabin when I should have been sleeping, a dark thought came into my head.
>Did he leave me because he was afraid I’d be like him? Something twisted and sick?
>Has he…
>Has he always hated himself this much?
>Does the strong, loving, man who at times I swore could never stop hugging me, loathe his very existence?
>And in that moment I was so thankful I never found it in me to hate him.
>How could I possibly hate someone who thought so little of himself?
>Yet loved me more than I could even fathom.
>And I never realized it as a child. I thought about myself too much.
>Oh Dad…
>I’m so sorry.
>I wish I understood sooner.


>aaahhhhhhh
>aaaaahhhhhhhhhh
>aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh
>What the Hell?!
>I have to run from one end from the ship to the other.
>Multiple times.
>What is this?!
>What is all of this?
>This…
>THIS IS A CITY!?
>Houses! not made from sod, or wood.
>But…something else.
>Something even sturdier!
>And they coated all the land out to the horizon.
>With only small patches of green.
>I saw tall, tall houses reach up to the sky!
>And we passed by ships that were even bigger!
>And that was when I realized how dinky this little boat was in comparison.
>And they all chugged out this thick black smoke.
>In fact the houses all over did.
>And it’s all so…
>Loud!
>Aaaaahhhhhh
>Rexis cannot help the keel over laughing.
>I don’t find any of this funny.
>The other crewmen are all smirking too.
>No! Stop that!
>“Welcome to London!” Rexis shouts.
>“The Capital of the British Empire!”
>I watch with fascination-half my body hanging over the railing-as the ship pulls into the dock.
>The docks themselves were bigger than ten of my village.
>I don’t think I’ve seen this many people packed in one place.
>I don’t think I’ve seen this many people in the first place.
>My mind feels mushy….
>I think I might be sick…
>Rexis grabs me by the back of the head and pulls be back sharply.
>“Careful now!” He yells “I can’t you falling over board right as we get here.”
>My legs feel wobbly and Rexis can’t help me as I fall down onto my back.
>I feel so weak.
>“What…” I begin “What now?”
>He shakes his head, looking at me with pity.
>“Now I go take care of all the paperwork so you can enter without a problem.”
>“What’s paperwork?” I ask.
>“Sir Hadlee’s taken care of all that before” Rexis says, ignoring me. “So this should be a breeze, then we have to find the damn driver and get you over to Sir Hadlee’s.”
>“I don’t know what any of that means.” I say helplessly.
>Rexis only sighs.
>“You just stay on the ship. I’ll get everything sorted out and come and get you. Don’t get into trouble.”
>“I can’t explore?” I whine.
>“You practically fainted at the sight of London. This place will swallow you If you’re not careful. I won’t be long. I promise.”
>“It’s soooo Sunny outside” I say with a giggle.
>I think the whole experience made me slightly hysterical.
>Not the sobbing kind
>But the laughing and feeling jittery all over kind.
>Rexis throws his hands up and begins to walk off.
>I hear him yelling at some other crew to make sure I don’t wander off.
>I smile as I spread my arms and legs out like an angel.
>Don’t worry.
>I’m not going anywhere.
>I’m right where I need to be. 

>“I hope it’s not too cramped in there for you Claire.”
>“If I sit at an angle I’ll have enough room in my legs…” I say nervously.
>This thing…
>A coach it was called, pulled along by a horse…
>They looked a little bit like caribou, minus the antlers.
>And…a bunch of other stuff.
>“Sorry we couldn’t find you any clothes that fit you.” Rexis says “We didn’t have enough time to go shopping.”
>“That’s fine” I reply “This coat works fits well enough.”
>“Sir Hadlee will make sure you have something proper to wear when you arrive.”
>“How long will the trip take?” I ask
>“Shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Use it to get some rest.”
>“I wish you were coming.” I whine slightly, “I feel very stranded in this land.”
>“I know, Claire” Rexis says, grabbing my hand and holding it gently. 
>“But I have to get back to the ship. Orders are orders. I promise that when you arrive Sir Hadlee will take care of everything for you.”
>“Okay…” I say nervously, feeling his hand loosen over my own.
>“Goodbye Claire, I hope to see you again soon.”
>“Rexis, wait one moment.” I say as I reach over to him.
>“What the-
>I grab his face gently and plant a small kiss on his cheek.
>His pale face goes beet red when I pull back.
>I giggle slightly
>“Thank you, for all you’ve done.” I say with a coy smile.
>Rexis can only stumble out a small goodbye before closing the door to the coach.
>Soon the coach begins to move and shortly afterwards we enter into the outskirts of London.
>I look out the small window, bored out of my mind.
>My eyes begin to get heavy, hypnotized by the rhythmic clopping of the horses upon the stone path.
>My head drops down to the pillow and I quickly fall asleep.


>My head jolts forward as the carriage comes to a sudden stop.
>As I rub my eyes open, I hear the coachman step down onto the ground
>“We’re here, Ma’am. Please wait here until I can get the servant.”
>I don’t say anything as I hear him walk away.
>My legs feel cramped and my shoulders and back feel all crunched up.
>I do wish Rexis found a bigger coach, I feel like I can barely move without smacking into something.
>“Sir, really I insist, there is no need to come out-
>“Quiet. I will greet my guests as I see fit.”
>“My apologies sir…”
>I stir at the commotion and before I can look out the window, the door opens.
>“Watch your step, Ma’am”
>With a small ‘oof’ my feet touch the ground.
>I can feel my ankles and wrists crack as I stretch my body.
>My spine and and tail shiver at the sensation.
>“Oh my, I was told you were tall. But you must be the size of a Rhino.”
>Okay, what the heck is a Rhino?!
>I look down towards the speaker.
>He looks much older than any other human I’ve met, even Jeremiah looked slightly younger.
>His hair was gray and his face from his chin to his upper lip were clean shaven, though the sides of his face had hair that was snow white.
>He was a spindly man, with long thin arms and legs and a very narrow waist.
>The complete opposite of Dad, who had always been bulkier.
>Despite the fact that he was most likely taller than Dad was, I still towered over him like I did any human.
>“Are you um… Mister, I mean Sir Hadlee-
>He takes his hand into my own, stopping me mid sentence.
>“Please, just Bert. I insist. If Anon ever learned I made his daughter call me Sir, he’d have a fit.”
>Even though I lumbered over him, he confidently took my arm and led me to his….
>oh my!
>It’s huge.
>You could fit dozens of huts in here.
>What was the word that Dad taught me…?
>Um… oh!
>A Mansion.
>“So, ah, Bert. You know my Father?”
>“Mhmmm, we were school boy friends.”
>My look of confusion must have told him I didn’t know what that meant.
>“Ah, I mean we’ve known each other since we were children.”
>I nod but Bert speaks more before I can respond.
>“Let’s not talk on these matters for now. You’ve had a long journey, I reckon some food and some rest would do wonders for you.”
>My suddenly empty feeling stomach was inclined to agree with him.
>“And I must insist we find you some new clothes. They look filthy! Is that fur you’re wearing?”
>I look down at my trousers, the same I had worn since I got on the boat months ago.
>“When we arrived at London…” I explain “There was no time to find clothes that fit me.”
>Bert sighs.
>“Oh that Rexis, he can sometimes handle things so shoddily.”
>“He took care of me well enough.” I protest as we begin towards the steps of what looked like a place where my Mother’s Gods resided.
>“Never mind that.” He says as the door opens before him.
>I am bombarded by a large retinue of people moving back and forth between this main foyer and into other rooms.
>“We’ll get you some clothes that are suitable. Then a meal and we’ll talk then alright.”
>“Who are all these people?” I ask. “Are they your family?”
>He chuckles.
>“No, not quite. Just the servants. Things are a bit busier than normal. I’ve even had to hire some outside help.”
>I’m about to ask what all this is for when another of his ‘servants’ appears before us. A small mouse anthro shorter than even most humans.
>It’s a wonder he wasn’t terrified of me.
>“Ah, Richard” Bert says. “Perfect timing, show the lady her quarters. And do we have anything for her…er height.”
>I see Richard bite his lip for a moment, his whiskers twitch as he thinks.
>“I believe we have a spare dress that Miss Garvisham wore for your Summer outing two years ago. That might fit with some hemming.”
>Bert snaps his fingers.
>“Good memory, Dick! That should work fine for now. See if you can find anything else for our guest for this evening. Put an order for the clothier as well.”
>He turns back to me.
>“I’m afraid we’ll have to take your measurements to get clothes that fit you, Claire.”
>I rub my arm, embarrassed.
>“I’m very sorry for all this fuss.” I say shyly.
>He merely smiles at me.
>“Not to worry, we have much to talk about! What you wear is the least of my concerns.”
>He gestures towards Richard, who extends his hand to me.
>“Richard here will make sure you are accommodated and comfortable before dinner. If you need anything feel free to ask him.”
>I tentatively reach out towards him.
>My whole hand could cover his small face, let alone his hand.
>Still, his paw’s grip is quite tight.
>“We will discuss your situation at Dinner.” Bert says as he begins to walk away. “I have much business to attend to. Feel free to get some rest beforehand, I’m sure you must be tired.”
>To be honest I slept on the journey here.
>But it was a cramped and uncomfortable sleep.
>“Oh, and Richard.”
>The mouse turns towards Bert.
>“Remember, keep this quiet please. I want no questions from the clothier.”
>Richard only grunts softly and nods his head. Apparently a good enough answer for Bert as he heads towards another large door.
>I feel Richard pull slightly and I give, letting him guide me around the mansion.
>“Once you memorize the layout, it’s surprisingly simple” he says. “I’ve worked on estates that were real mazes in comparison to Master Hadlee.”
>I can only nod slightly as he leads me up a large flight of stairs. Drawings and paintings adorn the walls.
>“Portraits of the Hadlee family” Richard explains. “Mostly cousins and uncles and such.”
>He leads me down a wide hallway and opens a door.
>“This will be your room, madam, there is a washroom inside as well.”
>My face is one of confusion.
>“Um…I know this sounds silly. But that’s a…bed right?”
>The mouse raises his brow.
>“…yes. If it does not suit you I can give you another room-
>“No! It’s fine.” I say frantically. “I’m sorry, I come from a very different place.”
>I had slept in small cots on the ship.
>But this was something else entirely
>He nods understandingly 
>“I have been told a small amount about the Lady” he says bluntly. “Are you familiar with dresses?”
>My face alone gives the answer.
>“I see, for now we only have the one dress that will fit. It is fairly…formal. I will have some of the ladies assist you.”
>As he leaves, I’m left baffled. I hear him call out to someone else. It’s just clothes right? What’s the big deal?
>Richard comes back in along with two human women.
>What’s that big green thing they’re carrying?
…
>Oh my God.


>“Well at least it fits!” Bert says enthusiastically.
>I hate dresses.
>“How is this considered clothing?” I whine, “it’s so impractical.”
>This green “dress” seemed to have multiple layers of cloth that weaved and entangled itself endlessly.
>Somehow it formed some kind of coherent shape.
>My legs, while covered, still felt exposed and vulnerable. 
>Meanwhile it seemed my chest and core were too tight and restricted.
>“I imagine this is quite strange where you come from.” Bert said with a chuckle.
>“I couldn’t hunt Caribou in this!” I complain.
>“Quite. We’ll make sure to get something more to your tastes tomorrow. Though you do looking quite dashing in it.”
>“R-really?” I stammer out.
>“These dresses are usually made for Anthros that are not just tall, but bulky. From what your Father told me, your race is muscular but rather sleek. Yours is an aesthetic I’ve yet seen.”
>“Um…thanks I guess.” I saw as we enter what was called a ‘dining room’.
>There is a large table with an array of different foods.
>“I’ve been told your peoples consume almost nothing but meat. I arranged a few choice selections for you to choose from.”
>Before I can respond he steps ahead of me and slides a chair out.
>“Please, have a seat.”
>I slowly step towards him and plop down, I can hear the fabric of this dress crinkle and fold as I sit.
>Bert lifts the lid covering the plate. Which in of itself seems to be made out of some shiny glass.
>On the plate is an elaborate bowl outlined with thin gold strips.
>The smell is delicious.
>“A meat broth, pork specifically, as an appetizer before the main course.” he says before seating himself opposite of me.
>I pick up the spoon, I notice my utensils are bigger than Bert’s. To account for my own larger hands I suppose.
>Still, the concept of a spoon is foreign to me.
>I’ve always eaten everything with a knife or slurped everything from a clay pot or bowl.
>“Ah..” I begin, “sorry if my, erm, eating habits are-
>“Oh for God’s sake, just eat how you wish.” Bert lets out. “I’m the last person you need to make a good impression on.”
>With that said I slowly place the spoon back on the table and pick up the bowl itself.
>It’s warm, hot even. But years of handling pots straight out of a Qulliq tempered my hands against heat.
>I notice Bert eyes me as I bring the bowl to my lips. Not with disapproval, but with curiosity.
>I feel so self conscious as I begin to drink down the broth, the chunks of meat taste sweet and succulent. I barely have to chew as it all just seems to melt in my mouth like snow.
>Still, the echoing sounds of my slurping throughout the dining room makes me feel disgusted with myself as I place it back down. Picking up a small towel next to me and wiping my muzzle.
>Bert only chuckles to himself.
>“I imagine you picked that up from your Father.” He says with a grin.
>“Sorry! That’s how we’ve always eaten. This is all very elaborate and…
>Bert laughs again and waves his hand.
>“It’s fine, Claire. I’m only teasing.”
>Still embarrassed, I pick up the spoon.
>It feels so awkward in my hand.
>“So…” I begin. “Earlier when I arrived, you told Richard ‘to keep this quiet’”
>“Mhmm, indeed I did.” Bert replies.
>“Am I really so controversial?” I ask.
>Bert sighs.
>“No. You are interesting. It is your Father that’s controversial. There are a lot of people in very high places that do not like your Father. If they learned about you, life could be…difficult.”
>I finish the broth and push the bowl slightly away from my, wiping my whiskers.
>“Rexis told me. He said that Dad…killed a commanding officer?”
>Bert can only nod slightly.
>“Yeah, that he did.”
>The conversation stops briefly as Bert waves in two servants to take away the bowls. Two more come up and present to us our main meals: Some kind of cooked meat and this strange white material with bits of green.
>“Potatoes” He explains “With parsnips.
>“Why?” I ask impatiently. “Why did he do that?”
>Bert gives me a slightly weary look as he quickly shoos away the servants with a annoyed glare.
>Once the doors close, Bert takes a deep breath.
>“How much do you know about your Father? Really?”
>I pause at the question, not really knowing the answer myself.
>On one hand, I think I grew up seeing a part of him that no one else, not even Mom, had the privilege of knowing.
>But then the small tidbits of information Rexis told me seemed like it was just scratching the surface.
>I guess I didn’t have to say anything for Bert to get the answer he was looking for.
>“Before we continue with any of this, you must know, from someone who is close with your Father and cares for him deeply…”
>“There are aspects of his character that are unsavory, to say the very least.”
>I nod silently as I take the potatoes and scoop them into my mouth.
>They taste okay, somewhat bland for a food I had never eaten before.
>“This is hardly good table conversation.” Bert continued. “But that’s the point I’m afraid.”
>“What do you mean?” I ask.
>“If you can stomach some of the unpleasant truths while eating, well you can probably handle the rest.”
>I sink my fangs into the meat. My teeth sawing into the flesh and leaking out the juices onto the plate.
>“Rexis hinted at some of these stories” I say. “But he refused to tell me any of them. He didn’t know himself which ones were truth or tall-tales.”
>Bert only nods slightly as he makes a clean little cut into his food and plops it effortlessly into his mouth.
>He made me look like a real slob in comparison.
>“Anon and I were friends since we were children. I was a bit older than him and my family came from wealth while his was quite poor. We went to the same church together and that was how we met.”
>“What was he like?” I ask, “as a boy.”
>There was something so innocent and exciting coming to the realization that yes, he had been a child just like me.
>It’s one of those things that when you actually figure it out you feel so stupid afterwards.
>“Rambunctious, always running around town, skipping school and getting into trouble. That all changed after his parents died though.”
>I blinked at the sudden change in tone.
>“What?…” I can only say meekly.
>“His Father was a miner, he spent almost his entire life working underground in that filthy stagnant air. I think Anon is now older than his Father was when he died. His Mother died only a few years afterwards, Consumption, a disease of the lungs.”
>“..oh…” was all I could say.
>I had no idea.
>Did Mom even know?
>Why do I feel so ashamed?
>Like he shouldn’t have ever had to tell me this in the first place.
>I should have just…known instinctively.
>“How old was he…when that happened?” I ask quietly.
>“About 15 or 16 I think.
>Just a few years younger than me.
>He left me when I was ten.
>But at least he didn’t die!
>And I always had Mom.
>He had…no one.
>“He became more reserved then. He was always very quiet and only spoke when he was spoken to. When he did speak it was always terse and to the point. Burying his parents at such an age left a deep impression on him. When my parents heard he was going to be sent to a work house for orphans they became his guardians almost immediately.”
>Dad was always quiet…
>I couldn’t imagine him being anything else.
>I thought it was just who he was.
>But did a tragedy create the man…the parent that I had adored?
>“By then” Bert continued “I had already set my mind on a military career and shipped myself off to the Officer’s academy. Anon wasn’t very goal oriented and was pretty directionless. So he figured the best thing was to follow in my footsteps and enroll as an officer’s cadet as well.”
>I take another bite into this meat, trying to eat more neatly. Whatever meat this was, it was delicious: the skin was charred but it was soft and tender beneath.
>“Claire…You’re father proved himself to be very intelligent and a strong leader of men. He was very good at what he did.”
>“But what he did was kill other people.”
>I swallow my food too early, feeling the un-chewed food snake down my gullet.
>“And he’s always been unapologetic about it. His…inclinations towards violence has never bothered him like it would another man.”
>I try to take a deep breath, absorbing what I’m being told.
>In a sense I already guessed at all of this, what with the small amount Rexis told me.
>I go back to my thoughts on the boat.
>How everyone was so afraid of him.
>How be possibly thought of himself…
>“Do you think my Father is a monster?” I ask it so bluntly I surprise myself.
>Something in me is relieved when Bert quickly shakes his head.
>For once there is someone
>Someone
>Who isn’t weary or outright terrified of the person I call ‘Dad’.
>And in that single, small gesture. He unknowingly elevated himself in my eyes.
>“I know him too well to call him such a thing. But I can’t deny he’s done some monstrous things in his military career.”
>I take the last of my potatoes and mush it in with the meat. Trying to finish it all in one bite.
>I need to wash it down with water so I don’t choke.
>“P-please tell me.” I gasp out.
>“I have a right to know.” I insist.
>Bert can only nod as he begins to make small, refined incisions into his meat.
>“Anon was assigned to lead a division of Indian troops to help suppress the Boxer rebels in China.”
>“This was well over two decades ago so it was still a few years before you were born.”
>I continue to drink the water to wash my palette.
>“I can’t imagine the hell he went through. Most under his command died fighting in the front lines. Knee deep in mud and muck in patty fields…rifles jamming and breaking due to the humidity. I read the report that he resorted to sharped sticks and bamboo and would ambush and mutilate the enemy.”
>“M-mutilate?” I say, my voice rising ever so slightly.
>“He would decapitate the heads and place them on sticks as a warning to the populace not to rebel.”
>I look down into my lap and try to remember those moments where he smiled.
>Those moments when he taught me to read and write.
>Or to shoot a bow.
>“Do you want me to stop?”
>“No!” I practically shout. “Please…continue. I need to hear this.”
> He nods as he rises from his seat and walks over to what looks like a large…cabinet?
>In it he pulls out two more glasses and a large red bottle.
>“You’re going to need some of this I imagine.”
>“Is that wine?” I ask. “I’ve never had it before.”
>“Drink it slow and in small sips, otherwise you’ll get sick.”
>I nod as he pours the deep red liquid into my glass and slides it over.
>It’s somewhat awkward bringing the goblet to my muzzle. But I manage to lap it up slightly with my tongue.
>I must look so undignified.
>“Careful. Don’t drink too much.”
>Embarrassed I put the cup back down.
>Bert pours himself a full glass and sits down besides me.
>“Your Father found himself in the final battle of that awful conflict, the siege of Peking. A shameful tale of greed and looting if there ever was one.”
>“What do you mean?” I ask
>“There was no way the city could hold. We had rifles and cannons while they were still fighting with spears and swords. Once their walls fell all the soldiers rushed in, stealing and raping what they could.”
>I squeeze my hands tight into a fist.
>Bert gently puts an arm around my shoulder.
>“Don’t worry. That wasn’t your Father. Like I said, he is no monster.”
>I nod slowly, still anticipating what was to come.
>“However, there were a small group of rebels that had been running around the city harassing the troops. They knew the city’s layout better than we did and were engaging in hit and run tactics. We finally had them cornered in a temple, but they had barricaded themselves in and dared the soldiers to come in after them.”
>“Your Father had other ideas.”
>I look up to Bert
>I wanted this.
>I need to know the truth about him
>But I was only now confronting the gravity of that knowledge.
>“What did he do?” I say in a hushed whisper.
>There is a small moment of terrible silence.
>“He added to the barricade, throwing any junk he could get his hands on before igniting it. When the rebels realized what was happening they tried to rush out, but all the flames and debris blocked their path and they burned to death, as your Father had probably planned.” 
>I can only nod dumb, barely even registering what was being told to me
>“..okay…”
>“..okay…”
>“I think I need some wine.”
>I reach out towards the cup, and ignoring Bert’s previous warnings, took a large gulp of the bitter liquid.
>“I know this must be difficult to hear.” Bert said. “But Rexis said you wanted to find him. What do you want to get out of this?”
>I let the effects of the wine wash over me. I’m unable to answer Bert’s question.
>“Do you want to reprimand him for leaving? Or to give him a final goodbye and have closure?”
>“Do you want him in your life again?”
>I dart my head towards Bert at that last question. It was obvious he hat touched a nerve.
>“Regardless of what you’re setting out to do. These are sort of things about him you must understand. You must know what kind of man he is and ask yourself if you can accept that.”
>“Actually, can I ask you something?” I say, my head still feeling like it’s trapped in a gust of wind.
>“Of course Claire.”
>“Does…does he know I’m here.”
>Bert himself drains his glass of wine and goes to place the bottle back in the cabinet.
>“No. I never told him.”
>I blink at the answer. I guess it’s pretty obvious that he doesn’t know. But still, it’s odd his supposedly closest friend wouldn’t tell him something like this.
>“Why?” I ask.
>His face suddenly looks quite grim as he turns to face me.
>“Your Father once told me…that your Mother once saw something she shouldn’t have…”
>I can only nod slowly as I finish off the rest of the wine myself.
>God what does this stuff do to you?
>“Before I was born there was a wolf pack that was harassing the tribe. Dad…hunted them all and Mom saw some of it happen.”
>I remember the fear in her voice when she told me the story herself.
>“She could never really look at Dad the same way again.”
>“Indeed.” He states curtly as he rises from his chair.
>“I’m not going to see that sad state of affairs repeated again. If I’m going to send you to him, I’m going to make sure you know exactly the type of person he was.”
>He picks up a little bell from the table and rings it, prompting the servants to rush in and begin clearing the table.
>“Was?” I ask, confused “Is he different now?”
>I follow him out the dining room as he leads me up a different set of stairs.
>This place alone felt like an endless forest one could get lost in.
>“Hard to say what’s going on in his head at any time. But he’s not the soldier he once was. Age and…injuries have seen to that.”
>I feel my heart jump to my throat and for a moment all the bitter feelings I had about Dad evaporated.
>“Injured?!” I reply frantically.
>Bert only nods.
>“In an odd way Anon’s suffered the same fate as his own Father. His body has taken so much abuse over the years its begun to shut down. He says his joints feel rigid and his back is worn down.”
>I could barely imagine it.
>Dad weak and infirm, being anything besides the peak of physical strength.
>“But it really was his conscription in the Great War that did it. The petty bastards!”
>I flinch at the curse. It was odd and almost painful to hear someone as refined as Bert use such harsh language.
>“The moment he came back, the powers that be were stunned. He was like a piece of rotten meat they had thrown under their beds that had come back to haunt them. The Brass couldn’t leave well enough alone. The Generals couldn’t outright execute him, so they did the next best thing. They forced him to serve on the front lines of that awful war, He was over the conscription age, but they strong-armed him into it anyway.”
>No.
>No one could ever force my Dad to do anything he didn’t want to do!
>Bert can only let out a short grunt in response.
>“Your Father was beholden to powerful men for large part of his life. And those men have always hated him for killing one of their own in South Africa. It was only because of my influence that he wasn’t hanged for treason.”
>“Um..I’ve been meaning to ask…Rexis didn’t know why he-”
>“I’m going to show you.” He say’s plainly.
>Show? What does he mean by that?
>He opens a door that leads to his own personal bedroom.
>With a small gesture he beckons to come over to a small desk in the corner.
>He sits down with a weary sigh as he begins to rifle through various drawers.
>“Anon was stationed in South Africa during the Boer war. He was assigned to a prison camp that housed mainly women and children.”
>I see him pull out a small, but thick envelope.
>“The conditions there were appalling. Many of the prisoners would starve to death.”
>But the prisoners were women and chi-
>I swallow hard as the full weight of what I’m being told smacks me like a piece of metal.
>“Anon had become friends with a small Canine girl, Elizabeth was her name. That’s the only thing we know about her. She was a particularly bad case and her malnutrition was quite obvious.”
>He pulls out a thin sheet of paper, he looks at it and grimaces.
>It was a look of deep hatred and disgust, as if the man had come into contact with some pungent foul odor in the comforts of his own bedroom.
>He looks at me again, then back at the paper.
>Bert says nothing as he hands it to me.
>He can’t even look me in the eye.
>My hand slowly reaches out and takes it.
>As I flip it over I almost drop it as I let out a gasp.
>More like a shriek.
>I know I’ve lived a hard life, harder than most, in a dangerous and unforgiving world of snow and cold.
>But I never once saw horror like this.
>And I hope I never do again.
>It was the girl, naked on a bed, her fur was only in patches as most of it seemed to have shed.
>I could see the bones poke the thin skin on her chest and stomach.
>And that same, tight yellow-like skin was more wrapped around her wrist bones then actually covering it.
>There was practically no hair on her digitigrade legs, The outlines of her knees and the knuckles on her toes was clearly visible.
>But what was even worse was her face.
>Her lifeless eyes had rolled back and I could see the veins bulging out.
>Her head in general still had most of her fur, but there were also red boils and sores that were so swollen they were easily noticeable beneath the presumably once thick fur.
>Her tongue had lolled out of her mouth and flopped out ungraciously towards the corner of her maw.
>One hand laid across her bare chest.
>The other dangled carelessly over the mattress.
>I thrust the horrible image back into Bert’s face, who quickly takes it from me.
>In just a few seconds I found myself on the brink of tears.
>“I’m sorry I had to show you that.” Bert says calmly as he places that hellscape back in the envelope.
>Why would he even have such a thing?
>“But that’s what your Father saw the day she died.”
>I feel woozy and even nauseous.
>I have to sit on the edge of the bed or else I’m afraid I’ll fall right over.
>“It was standard procedure to take photos of any deceased prisoners for record keeping, but the Warden of the prison…the Commander had a plan.”
>I finally can lift my head up and look towards Bert.
>“W-what?” I can only weakly respond.
>“He sent that picture back to Britain and had Newspapers publish and spread that photo. He made it look like this girl was already in that condition when they found her, in order to push the idea that the Boers were bad parents who abused and starved their own children.”
>“So he…” I began, trying to wrap my head around the whole thing.
>“made it look like he was a doomed savior to this little girl, rather than the one who indirectly killed her and hundreds more.”
>I lean back and look up at the ceiling.
>I don’t know if I want to be in this world.
>I think I much prefer my old one.
>I couldn’t imagine even the coldest member of the tribe even being capable of something like that.
>Such a crime never even registered to me.
>It was like even though I had spent my entire young life hunting, slitting the throats of Caribou and feral seals…my innocence was still unknowingly intact until now.
>“When your Father learned of this, he took a loaded pistol to the Warden’s office and shot him in the head.”  
>And that lead to him ending up in the tribe…
>Which then led to him meeting Mom…
>Which then led to…
>“If he didn’t do that..” I say slowly “I wouldn’t be here.”
>Bert’s tongue clicks off his teeth.
>“Hah! I never thought of it like that. I’m almost certain Anon never has either.”
>Bert rises from his chair and walk over to me.
>His smile is warm as he offers me his hand.
>“He never once repented for what he did. Even though it cost him so much. I think that was what truly made everyone angry; that he was never sorry for shooting that Commander.”
>I gingerly take his hand and let him pull me up to my feet.
>“If he ever did see things like you did” he continues. “He would be even more steadfast in his convictions, regardless of the consequences.”
>“He loves you that much.”
>I can only nod my head feebly as he begins to lead me down to my own room.
>A maze of narrow, dimly lit hallways.
>“Despite Anon’s history, I still have warm memories of him. I don’t want you to think it’s all doom and gloom. Surely you have happy memories of him too?”
>I nod.
>“Almost all of them are good. But the last one I have of him…seems to spoil the rest.”
>Bert purses his lips and frowns.
>“I can understand that…I hope I don’t upset you with this. But he made the right decision.”
>I dart my eyes immediately towards him.
>Despite the flash of anger on my face and the fact that I was younger, stronger, and bigger than him, Bert showed no signs of fear or intimidation.
>Quite the opposite.
>“Your Father was immediately whisked away to fight a war he was too old for, for the expressed purpose getting him killed on the front lines. What, Claire, could he have done with you? You could have ended up in a Work house for orphans or abandoned children.”
>“No matter what, you would have been separated from your Father. And you would have been far more miserable if he had taken you with him.”
>I’m silent at this small bombardment, shame building up within me.
>We reach my room and Bert, ever the gentleman, opens it for me.
>“Forgive me for what I said.” He says, “I was far too harsh, it must have been traumatic when he left you.”
>“It was, and still is” I affirm. “But thank you for telling me. I think I need to…well, get over it. It’s been years since it happened and even now I’m still bitter about it. Even if he was justified, that bitterness and frustration never goes away. And I don’t know what to do about it.”
>I go through the doorway’s entrance, surprised that I’m it’s tall enough for me.
>“Claire.” Bert says gently, prompting me to turn and face him once more.
>“Anon knows perfectly well what he did to you. He knows how hard it is to lose a parent, let alone one that leaves of their own volition.”
>“He’s utterly convinced you hate him.”
>What?
>Why can’t I breathe?
>Where did my lungs go?
>Where did…anything go.
>My fire…my ember
>It feels snuffed out.
>“And he’s fine with that. He’s told me multiple times that he deserves no forgiveness for what he did. He’s expecting to die knowing that his only child detests him, and it doesn’t bother him, because he feels he deserves it.”
>I lips quiver as my whiskers become sensitive to any draft in this mansion.
>I just want to scream.
>Just like I attempted to do when he first left.
>But still, even after all these years, I couldn’t do it.
>I didn’t have it in me.
>“I wanted to hate him…” I whisper.
>“But I never could, and it made me feel so weak.”
>I feel Bert places his hand on my shoulder.
>It was astonishing and slightly comical that his arm could even reach my shoulders.
>“I’m not going to tell you to forgive him, Claire. If you ever think you can bring yourself to hate your Father, or even despise him, that’s your prerogative.”
>“But even in that, Anon wouldn’t want it to weigh you down with guilt. He is a man who doesn’t believe in redemption, at least not for himself. You can never say a kind word about him til the day he dies…and he’ll be alright with that.”
>I can only make small nods as tears begin to roll down my fur.
>“I’d…I’d like to go to bed now, please.”
>He gives me small smile and pulls back from me.
>“Of course, my apologies for keeping you up so late.”
>He’s so formal.
>“I will see you tomorrow morning. I promise we will do something more lighthearted.”
>“I appreciate that.” I say, smiling through the sniffling.
>“But even so, I’d still like to hear more about Dad. If that is not too much to ask.”
>He gives a small bow.
>Despite being my Father’s friend, he acts so differently.
>I couldn’t imagine my Father bowing at all, let alone TO someone.
>“As you wish, and now I bid you good night. Richard’s quarters are the last door down the hall to your left. If you require anything in the middle of the night, do feel free to wake him.”
>As I nod and shut the door, making a mental note to myself to never do that.
>I think I would die of embarrassment if I had to wake someone up like that.
>With some serious effort I manage to take the dress off and place it on a nearby chair.
>It feels so strange going to bed without a few layers of clothing to stay warm.
>The bed itself feels even stranger.
>Too firm and stiff in comparison to the ocean of pelts and furs I often had wrapped myself around in.
>I put my head down on the pillow, images and thoughts of my Father swirling around in my head.
>Despite everything that had happened today, they were oddly pleasant.


>“Well I must say, Claire, you are quite dashing in such a simple dress. You would look even more so in something more…elaborate. Are you sure this is what you want?”
>“Yes!” I manage to spurt as we leave the clothier. “Dresses are terribly awkward for me, the simpler it is the better.”
>I had picked out a purple blouse that reached down to my ankles with a white blouse to go along with it.
>Additionally, Bert was insistent on buying me some “accessories”.
>Such as a large green sun hat whose rim cast a shadow over my entire face, shielding me from the sun.
>That wasn’t enough.
>He then got me a light blue parasol, the handle of which I draped over my shoulder.
>I suddenly felt like the stem of a blooming flower.
>“I won’t be surprised if a number of bachelors begin to court you.” Bert says, chuckling.
>I only huff at this as we step into the coach.
>This one was much better than the other one I had ridden in. For one thing it was larger and my legs no longer felt cramped up.
>Secondly was that there was no roof, the entire wagon was open to the fresh air and my parasol could continue to bloom against the clear, sunny day.
>“I knew it was a good idea to get you out of the house.” Bert says. “You’re trying to hide it but you’re absolutely beaming about the parasol.”
>I can only roll my eyes at him, even if he is right.
>“Well, you did say today would be more lighthearted” I shoot back. “I might as well try to embrace it whole heartily.”
>I spin my parasol between my fingers as a cool gust of wind bristles against my whiskers and fur.
>I wonder…
>On such a nice day
>What Dad’s doing right now?
>“Can I ask you a question at the risk of ruining such a perfect day.”
>Bert nods his head.
>“If a single question can ruin a day then it wasn’t so perfect to begin with.”
>“Well you see…” I begin, “I heard Rexis and the other soldiers mention something called Axt-Träger”
>I already know the words aren’t English. Every time I say them my tongue feels all tied and frazzled up.
>I see Bert’s countenance fall ever so slightly.
>“When Anon was pushed into the Great War, he was sent to the trenches on the front lines in continental Europe. Where he stayed and fought for three years. Right before the war ended, the Germans made one, last attack. The Spring offensive.”
>I could only understand the very basics of what all this must have meant: Dad in a hole, and people were coming to kill him.
>But I could tell by Bert’s tone that it was certainly more serious and dire than I could ever realize.
>“At the time, We were still sending out supplies to the soldiers: food, water and ammunition. By the time the Spring Offensive had begun, your Father and his section of the trench hadn’t be resupplied. When the Germans came…he quickly ran out of bullets.”
>“So what he did was he picked up two small axes, normally used for cutting wood and fought off a small platoon of Germans until reinforcements came. He managed to kill eight Germans in the process…though it cost him.”
>“How?” I ask, holding my breath.
>“His right ankle was shot and later on gouged at by bayonets. Despite the injury, he kept fighting on, which only exacerbated the wound even more. When the retreating Germans told their officers what had happened, they gave him the name, Axt-Träger. Which is German for ‘Axe Wielder’.”
>I was no longer spinning my parasol.
>“It’s so strange.” I finally reply after a long moment of silence. “All my memories of Father are him teaching me to read, or taking me fishing, or even just playing with me in the snow.”
>“But then I hear something like this, and I wonder if it was all real. He sounds like some mighty and terrible warrior from those stories I used to hear my elders tell.”
>Bert could only grunt in response.
>“It was an extraordinary feat of bravery. If it was anyone else, he would have been commended but…well.”
>The coach pulls up to the mansion as the driver steps out to open the gates.
>“That was the moment all the higher ups back in London gave up on getting revenge. They just wanted him gone. Especially when the story started to spread among the soldiers and was at risk of being picked up by the press. So they pulled him out of the army, discharged him again and even gave him a little house in return for keeping quiet.”
>“And…what about his leg wound.”
>I expect the worst when Bert grimaced slightly at the question.
>“He walks with a noticeable limp now, sometimes he tells me the pain can be so bad that he needs a cane to get around the house. Your Father always was fairly active, so I’m worried about his health now that he’s not as mobile as he used to be. His local pastor drops by to check on him, make sure he’s doing alright. But for the most part he keeps to himself, he doesn’t write to me as often as he used to.”
>I take Bert’s hand as he guides me down the step onto the ground.
>It was strange being treated so daintily.
>“He would write to you?” I ask, confused.
>“Mhhm, we sent each other letters over our years in the military. In fact the only time I never heard from him was when he lived among your people. And when he came back I was the first person he decided to visit. Gave me quite a shock seeing his face and covered in hair.”
>Bert snaps his finger, apparently quite happy about something.
>“That actually reminds me, I think there are a few choice letters you would like to read.”
>My head perks up, “really?”
>“It’ll take me awhile to find them, but I think you would appreciate them more than me even.”
>He pats my my hand gently as he takes my arm into his.
>In a lot of ways he reminded me of Yoskolo, very grandfatherly.
>“In the meantime, let us prepare for lunch! I think eating outside on the porch would be quite nice, don’t you think Claire?”
>I can only smile as I gently squeeze his arm.
>“Yes, I would like that very much.”

>Later that evening, Bert makes good on his promise and hands me a small binder.
>“There are a couple of photos of him when he was younger in there as well that I found” he says.
>“I had a feeling you might want to have a look at them.”
>I take the binder eagerly and hold it close to my chest.
>“There are probably more that you would like to read, but I can’t find them at the moment. I’m afraid I’ve become terribly unorganized with these sorts of things.”
>I can only shake my head profusely.
>“No, this is immeasurable to me. You’ve done too much for me.”
>Bert can only wave his hand away at the compliment.
>“Try not to stay up too late reading them, I wouldn’t want you to be groggy tomorrow.”
>I can only nod and assure him I won’t.
>Though I have a feeling that’s not going to be the truth at all.
>We say our good nights and I retired to my quarters, keeping the lamp lit by my bedside as I open the binder.
>A few pictures slide out onto the sheets.
>I scramble for them.
>My eyes widen…
>This must have been when he was younger.
>A deep fascination settles in my brain as I pick apart every small little detail about him.
>He had no beard, his jaw was more pronounced than I thought and his hair was much shorter.
>His eyes were steely and his mouth was neutral.
>He wore a uniform that had nary a wrinkle on it, with a saber in it’s scabbard attached to his belt.
>The complete opposite of how I remembered him: Hairy, messy and always covered in furs.
>Though those eyes were still the same.
>I grab another picture and let out a loud squeak.
>Oh God!
>It was Dad!
>As a Baby!!!!!
>His mouth was slightly open and his eyes stared almost dumbly at me.
>His hair was longer and curled at the tips to form little locks settled ever so gently on top of his head.
>His cheeks and neck were very chubby.
>I giggle at the photo.
>I have a real image of my Dad as a baby!
>And he was so cute!
>The last and final picture sobers my happiness, but only by a little bit.
>It was Dad, in uniform again, but this time he looked older.
>His eyes had sunken in, they looked tired.
>He had grown a thick mustache this time, completely obscuring his upper lip.
>His brows had furrowed, and when mixed with his eyes, gave him the impression of exhausted cynicism.
>When was this taken?
>I had no idea but it seemed to be a good reaction to his whole life regardless.
>All the wars he fought in.
>And all that he saw and did in that prison camp.
>That look in his eye…I sometimes saw it when I was a child.
>But it was always a mystery to me.
>It isn’t anymore.
>I’m amazed he was even capable of smiling,
>of laughing
>all of those things…
>Which he did only around me.
>I tuck the photos back into the bind and pull out the letters, the paper is yellow and discolored from age, but the handwriting is still legible.
>I lean back into the bed, on my side towards the lamp and unfold the paper.


Dear Bertrand,
I hope this letter finds you well. Despite the length of time that has passed it is only until now that I have learned that your Mother passed away early last month. I hope you will forgive me for not expressing my condolences sooner and I hope you will forgive your wayward friend even further for not attending the service and being there to comfort you during this period of grieving. My time in Peking has been a most unpleasant one and has cost me much of my time and energy. Though the city has been taken, I feel I have not accomplished much.
I wish I could have been there to visit your Mother during her final days. Just to let her know how ever grateful I am to her and your Father for their generosity towards me and my career. When my own Mother passed on I felt lost and at such a young age I feel as if the winds themselves could have pushed and prodded me towards a life of disaster. Your parents, your Mother specifically, grabbed ahold of me and refused to let go. It was because of that great Christian act that I was no longer weighed down by the immeasurable sadness of losing a loved one. She is the example by which all good parents should live by. 
As one who has also experienced the bitter pain of maternal loss, I wish you nothing but happiness in the future. I can promise that the pain will subside to almost nothing, and while the yearning for her will dull over time it will never truly extinguish. And you should hope it never does. One should always miss their parents when they are gone, for it meant they were true and just. Learning to move on despite such longings is what I have always aimed for despite the difficulty and though you must walk that road as well, you will not walk it alone.

Sincerely,
-Anon




Dear Bertrand
By the time you have received this letter, things will have progressed beyond the control of both you and I. My time here in South Africa has changed me for the worst and I aim to do something which will ruin me and make life very hard for you in the future. I hope you will have it in you to forgive me for this though I will not blame you if the task is too monumental.
I must assume you have see that blasphemy in the papers? Even though the Government has censored the image already, their intended purpose has already been done. This is yellow journalism that would make the Yanks blush! To parade a corpse of an innocent girl around like a pack of savages is an unforgivable sin, one that the good Warden here is responsible for primarily. I have heard that he is going to be promoted soon. I refuse to live in a world where this occurs.
After I send this letter to you I plan on taking my revolver and killing him in his quarters. I will not fight back after the terrible deed has been done and I expect to be executed for treason shortly afterwards. I know your career has been quite successful and I hope that I do not tarnish you in any way, but such a degenerate conspiracy as this must not go unanswered.
I go to sleep, Bert, and I see her face staring back into me, judging me, asking me “Why? Why didn’t you save me?” I don’t have an answer for her, Bert. I can’t say anything and all it seems that I can do is sputter down into a mess and cry like a child. She was so young and they treated her debased and lifeless form as a prop in a sick play. I watched it all happen and I did nothing. There is no Heaven for me, even with this terrible deed I am steadfast in performing. Saint Peter will take one look at me before the gates of Heaven and righteously cast me down. If there even is such a thing as Heaven. I’m not so sure anymore. I know there is a Hell, but it is purely of our own making.
I love you Bert, and all that your family has done for me. I am afraid it will all be for naught soon enough. I hope you understand.
-Anon




Dear Bertrand,
I received your letter a few days ago but it is only now that I have found the energy to write back. I feel quite lethargic and my bad leg limits what I can do. I’m afraid I must reject your good advice. There is no need to integrate with anyone. I go to Church and Father Eugene stops by every few days for tea and that is more than good enough. Unlike the vast majority of our species I am not perturbed by isolation. For most of my adult life I have operated alone and I will continue to do so. While many wish to die surrounded by their loved ones, I do not expect such a fate nor am I saddened by that realization. I was comfortable littering a bloodied field as a corpse, but due to sheer luck or divine providence that hasn’t come to pass. I will be more than grateful to expire quietly by myself.
The less people I interact with, the better. I have learned this lesson harshly. I had something akin to a wife once, but once my true disposition was known to her she rejected me wholesale. I spent over a decade angry and bitter by that turn of events. It was only afterwards I realized that I was the one being unreasonable, not her. I have never been euphemistic about the kind of man I am, Bert. For someone to get close to me is to pet a rabid dog. I should expect nothing more and now, in these quiet days of reflection, I no longer do. While I am touched by your concern, I must affirm that I am fine with how things are now, especially with the knowledge that they could have been so much worse.

Sincerely,
-Anon


Dear Bertrand,
Please forgive me for not responding to your Easter letter sooner. I am generally of a poor disposition during the Christian holidays and tend to say nothing that is worthwhile but gets everyone angry. Church is far more difficult during these times of the year. While everyone is singing the loudest, I barely let out an audible mumble. When we pray, I tend to grit my teeth. I feel this is due more to bitterness than any burgeoning atheistic tendencies. In my youth it was due to not truly believing in Heaven, I had seen and done too much to believe, even if I spouted the psalms, it was out of habit and nothing more. I was cynical and no longer was willing to expand beyond my immediate vicinity. I saw no point to it. I lived in a man made Hell of my own design as if it was all preordained not by God, but by some mathematical formula they teach in Universities. There was no Heaven that I could believe in.
And then Claire was born.
The memories of her occupy all of my happiest thoughts. I know God exists because I saw the Kingdom of Heaven through her. I do not believe I am destined to go there. For most of my life I have acted in a way that could have been easily exploited by evil and I simply did not care. I believe one needs better conduct than myself to be granted to eternal paradise. I still believe in standards.
But even with the knowledge that I will not be granted the gift of eternal life I still love and praise God because for a singular moment, when she called out to her Father in English, I felt the raw power of infinite bliss. And that decade I spent with her was the closest thing to a Heaven that I could ever want.
Easter makes me so taciturn because even more than usual everyone is committed towards something that I’ve already seen with my own eyes but will never have again. I do not wish to be flaunted with what I’ve lost. Sometimes I hope I die sooner rather than later, just so I no longer have to put up with this and just accept what awaits for me in the next world.
Ah, see, I am already souring this letter with morose thinking. I am just a grumpy old fool. It would be better to ignore my ramblings than take it seriously. I hope you remain well.

Sincerely,
-Anon  


>A loud knock echoes throughout the hallway in the middle of the night.
>It is followed by Bert opening the door, grumbling something unintelligible, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
>He is jolted awake suddenly when he sees me.
>I don’t even bother trying to hide it.
>The fur on my face as matted and wet with tears.
>My breath is short and rasping.
>My eyes are bloodshot and red from all the crying.
>“Claire?! What’s wrong-
>I grab him by the shoulders.
>I try to hug him but can only fall to the floor on my knees.
>He goes down on the floor besides me, grabbing my hand as I burst into more uncontrollable sobbing.
>“P-p-please…” I beg.
>“I need to see him. I need to see him now.”
>He takes his free hand and puts it over the back of me head, pushing me into his chest.
>It must been quite the sight to see someone over two feet taller than him be reduced to a crying child.
>“I don’t care!” I cry out “I don’t care what anyone thinks he is. It doesn’t mean anything to me!”
>“I can’t stand it! How he thinks of himself. I…I refuse!
>“I refuse for him to live like that!”
>“I love him too much!”
>I sob into Bert’s shoulder as he rubs the back of my neck.
>Any lingering bitterness and resentment died the moment I read his words.
>Words that were written in private, with no expectation that I would read them myself someday.
>Which contained himself beyond all tumultuous events in his life:
>An old man, who cared for nothing in this world…except me.
>And the fact that I wasn’t there by his side to keep him comfortable was now intolerable
>That ember that he had given me now scorched my whole body with that single need.
>Yes. I still remember the dream.
>Where Dad, as a mighty flame told me he would sputter out someday.
>And so would teach me to be as bright as he was.
>But that vision left out one important detail:
>That I would be his warmth as he slowly faded.
>I pull back from Bert, wiping away my tears with my sleeve.
>I would make sure he would never be cold, just as he did for me.
>“I’ll hire the chauffeur to take you in the Automobile.” Bert says, “It’ll be faster that way.”
>I can only nod silently as we both rise from the floor.
>“But it’s still quite late into the evening. Can I ask you to wait until the morning, Claire?”
>I smile and quickly nod.
>“I’m sorry about the outburst.” I say, thankful that my fur can hide my flushed face.
>“I recommend you splash some water on your face, you look like a wreck.”
>I chuckle at the old man before he lays his hand over mine.
>“He’s missed you terribly.” he says.
>“I know” I let out a barely audible whisper. “I’m nervous to see him again, I don’t know what I will say to him.”
>He lets go of my hand and begins to head back to his room.
>“You have plenty of time to think of something. I trust you can get back to your quarters on your own?
> I nod as he begins to close the door.
>“Then I will see you off in a few hours, dear. Sleep tight.”


>True to his word, when I had woke up only a few hours later, Bert met me in the dining room and said a ride had been prepared for me.
>“I’ve taken the liberty of packing your clothes.” Bert announced between sips of his coffee. “You should go in that dress I got for you. It’ll be quite a shock to him!”
>“I think just seeing me will be shocking enough” I reply as I finish up my eggs. “When am I leaving.”
>“Anytime you wish, dear. You could leave right after breakfast if you so desire.”
>I told him that would be the most ideal, though it saddened me to depart so soon after I arrived here.
>Bert shakes his head as his wipes his mouth with a napkin.
>“Oh don’t be so depressed about it. It’s not like we won’t see each other again. In fact I expect you to finally get your Father to actually come around a visit for once in a blue moon. Nag him half to death if you have to.”
>I giggle at Bert, it was only now that I was realizing that he wasn’t really a morning person despite forcing himself to wake up almost earlier than his servants. He was generally snappy and grumpy at this time of day.
>Once breakfast is concluded, Richard takes my one suitcases and packs them in the….
>Okay what the hell is this thing?
>Bert doesn’t chuckle, but openly laughs at my confusion.
>“These are much faster than coaches, and run without horses.”
>It would have fascinated me more if it didn’t make so much noise.
>“Oh the driver is just starting it up, it’ll be more mellow when the engine is running.”
>I can only frown at Bert’s poor explanation as I get into the backseat of this thing.
>At least the seats had cushioning.
>Bert leans into the open window, turning to address the driver, an older lion anthro by the looks of it, with a thick, reddish mane.
>“Oswald. You remember how to get to Anon’s house, don’t you?”
>The lion nods his head cheerfully.
>“Aye. that I do sir. But what about that little road just before-
>“Oh shoot!” Bert says, slapping his head. “I totally forgot.”
>“The path just before your Father’s is too narrow for cars” Bert says, turning towards me. “A lot of farmland over there and such. Once you arrive you’ll have to walk a short distance.”
>“O-okay…” I respond, a little nervous at my prospect of being left alone.
>“Don’t worry.” Bert says reassuringly, “Anon’s house is a little cottage on a hill, you can’t miss it.”
>I can only nod slightly at the impromptu directions, when I see Bert begin to pull back I reach out and grab his arm.
>“Wait!” I say desperately, surprising Bert.
>“Um…” I say anxiously “Can I ask you something?”
>Bert looks at me, puzzled.
>“In my tribe, it is custom to call older males we’ve become close to…Uncle.”
>Bert’s expression reminds me of a surprised caribou.
>“I called our village’s elder, Uncle, when I was taking care of him.”
>“I’d…like to call you Uncle too, if that’s alright.”
>I swear I see tears begin to form before Bert quickly composes himself once more.
>“Your Father has always been grateful that you were born.”
>“And now that I’ve met you, I am too. You may call me whatever you wish, Claire.”
>I can only quickly reach over and hug him.
>“I’m promise” I say quietly, “We’ll come to visit soon, Uncle.”
>I feel his breath spike as he hears his new name for the first time.
>His hug is tight. Tighter than all the others have been.
>I can practically feel his reluctance as he pulls away.
>“Tell your Father I said hello” is all he says before the window is rolled up.
>I silently nod and wave as the car begins to drive away.
>No.
>I won’t be away for long I think.
>But I won’t be coming back alone either.


>Unlike in the coach ride to Bert’s mansion, I didn’t fall asleep. 
>My head nestle snugly on the windowsill as I watched the green rolling hills dart and dash before my eyes.
>It was a landscape I had never seen before, even in the green spring of my homeland.
>But all I could think about was finally seeing him again.
>For the first time in over a decade.
>And I thought about all the horror that he had been put through before he met my mother.
>The wars
>The killing
>Elizabeth…
>He carried all of that with him as he raised me.
>But I never noticed there was something wrong.
>He never once made room for any of those awful memories.
>I was always his sole focus, and his own troubles never distracted him from looking after me.
>It makes me feel guilty, like I don’t know if I deserved all of that.
>But then another thought crossed my mind in that long trip.
>Maybe…I was his healing?
>I thought about all those times he smiled at me, or teased me.
>Would the man who did what he did in South Africa, or Peking, ever smile?
>Ever be jovial?
>Was I the new found source for all of that for him?
>And he just…upped and left all of that.
>What he did hurt me, hurt me more than anything else.
>But now I wonder what it did to him?
>His self loathing was evident. 
>But I would make him see.
>I would make him know just how much I love him.
>“Miss, we’re here.”
>I shake myself out of my trance as the car pulls to a stop.
>“Oh…is that the path?” I say, pointing towards the small narrow road.
>The grass was still there too! It had just been flatted and shorted over was I presumed would be horses.
>“I’m afraid so Ma’am. I won’t be able to squeeze in, and even then on dirt roads…”
>“That’s fine, Oswald.” I say as I begin to exit the car. “I can go on from here.”
>“I’ll carry your bag to your Father’s-
>“That won’t be necessary.” I say staunchly as I grab my suitcase.
>There wasn’t much in it and even if there was
>I had been taught to carry caribou on my shoulders.
>This small little suitcase and the purple dress I wore were nothing.
>“Please give Bert my thanks for helping me so much.”
>The lion merely nods his head, driving away as I begin to walk down the path.
>I felt so out of place in this quaint countryside.
>This large behemoth of a woman with her grayish, dark blue fur striding down a lane of green.
>In the distance I could see small houses, their boundaries to their land made clear with fences made from wood and stone.
>I then pass by a man on a horse.
>Even as he rode atop of the beast of burden, I could still meet him at eye level.
>He was obviously puzzled by my appearance.
>I reckon almost nobody has seen my kind in their lives.
>He politely asks where I’m heading to.
>I tell him I’m looking for a small house on a hill.
>He raises his brow.
>“You’re looking for Ol’ Anon?”
>I can only smile and beam at him
>I exclaim proudly:
>“Yes! I’m his daughter.”
>I retrain laughing when he’s taken aback by this.
>I can see him blushing with embarrassment.
>He stammers out that Anon’s house is just around the bend.
>In fact he’s outside right now, chopping wood.
>Wait what!?
>I quickly thank the flustered man and carry on, my pace a little quicker now.
>Just around that bend.
>Just around that bend.
>Just a few more turns and I can see him.
>I instinctively hunch my shoulders.
>I lower my head.
>Despite my size I’m trying to make myself as small as possible.
>I’m suddenly feeling very shy and there is this sensation of a lump of stones in my stomach, pressing down.
>As I turn the bend, my long gait turns into the shuffling of feet.
>As I see the foot of the hill I spot a large brush and I quickly scuffle behind.
>I hear the thunderous chopping of wood, followed by a loud grunt.
>It’s him!
>I can hear his voice!
>I forget how to breath as I take a small step out of the brush.
>I slowly turn my head up to the hill.
>My eyes widen.
>I don’t how I recognize him.
>But the moment I see him I know it’s Dad.
>Even if he looks completely difference from when I was a child.
>His beard is gone, his jaw is outlined with stubble.
>In fact most of his hair is gone too. The top of his head has gone completely bald.
>Only the hair on the back of his head is still there. No longer black.
>More like a wilting gray, it hasn’t been trimmed in a long time and reaches down to his shoulders.
>He’s no longer fit now. He’s much heavier than he once was, I can see his stomach protruding over his pants and belt buckle.
>His arms are still thick with muscle and with loud grunts he manages to slice the hard wood in one swing.
>He hasn’t seen me, his back is partially turned to me as he finishes the last batch of presumably firewood.
>I watch his face as he chops the wood. I see all the visceral expression on his face.
>Small little moments of fury, sadness, resentment all taken out on this wood.
>Finding this small little moment to let out a lifetime of hardship.
>With what I know of him now, I wonder if he was always like that?
>Back home, did every time he hunt a caribou, or chop wood, was it his little solace?
>Dad is panting heavily as he…limps over to the wood?
>Oh, his leg.
>His wound is noticeable, he practically needs to drag his foot across the ground.
>He tucks two large bundle of wood under his arm and begins to take it inside.
>He keeps the door open.
>I’m no longer anxious.
>I can breath again.
>And I can’t stop smiling.
>From now on he will have someone who will love him unconditionally.
>Someone who he knows will never judge him for the life he lived.
>Even if he doesn’t think highly of himself.
>I do.


                                                                    >You drop the wood in at the door
>I take the first step up the hill.
                                                                   >You wipe your brow with a rag.
 >I’m thinking of what I should say to him.
                                                                  >Today was a damn hot day.
  >I still haven’t figured that out yet.
                                                                 >And your leg has been acting up again.
   >But does it really matter?
                                                                >you might have to rest it today.
    >I reach the top.   
                                                               >Which means another wasted day
     >I can hear him inside.
                                                             >You just hope it gets better for Church
      >I slowly enter through the open door. 
                                                            >Speaking of which…
       >The wood creaks against my feet.
                                                           >“Father Eugene? Is that you?”
        >I freeze as I hear his voice clearly.
                                                          >You begin to leave the kitchen.
         >He’s so close…
                                                         >“I can put on a pot of coffee for you.”
          >I see him!
                                                        >“What brings you-
            >He’s turning his head to me.
                                                       >That’s not Father Eugene.
             >I clasp my hands tightly.
                                                     >You drop your mug.
              >I can’t stop.  
                                                   >You instantly begin to cry.
               >I can’t stop smiling at him.
                                                >Oh my God.


                                         “Claire?”



                                         “Daddy!”