HOME | DD

Description
Arctic Whispers
The ravens whisper to me. They are often around when I walk through the village with it's small wooden buildings, they perch on the solid roofs. People in Tasiq have begun to notice. Eelaga I hear the ravens call as I lift my feet high in the snow, and I turn to look at them. My mother grabs my wrist which is beneath my thick blue parka that hides most of me in the winter, and tells me not to encourage them. They make her nervous.
Ravens are not the only animals that seem to be around where I am. Some of the village's hunters have realized the large white bears have come closer to the village ever since I was born. My mother tells them the bears have been gradually becoming bolder for a long time now.

Pukiq. He could have been anybody. He lived in a normal white house, with a television, and a computer sitting on a desk that was cluttered with things such as a Kleenex box, a photo of his wife from before she was sick, scrap paper, and a CD case titled The Deluxe Print Shop (Over 30,000 images). He had a single recliner directly in front of the tv with an old wood and glass coffee table in between, and the remote on top. There were marks on the glass of the table where he had propped his feet on it and an almost empty bag of Cheetos, and crumbs. There were indents in the cream carpet where his wife's recliner had been only last year. Garbage on the floor where it wouldn't have been last year. Almost a year's worth of dust. His tanned skin had more wrinkles than before, his black hair was more gray.
There had always been rumors that he was a shaman, an inuktitut angakkuqs. My mother had taken me to him the first day I told her the birds spoke.
"In the days before the church, Kinaktok." He spoke to my mother. "The Inuit believed in angakkuqs. They were shamans, important. Kinaktok, listen to me. They were important, sometimes even the head of the village. They spoke to the sea goddess Sedna on our behalf if the hunts failed."
My mother slammed Pukiq's door as we left.  She told me he was old, and losing his wife had made him take leave of his senses. I must never talk to the animals. Never tell anybody I talked to the animals. It was nothing to be proud of. I was not to see Pukiq again.

I sat near the window of my house, looking out at a small congress of ravens. The spiraled horn of a narwhal was displayed on the wall nearby. Long rectangular paintings of polar bears, wolves, and whales decorated the walls. These were my favorite things in our house. The traditional decorations based on and made of the animals that surrounded us; art created by the Inuit of our village.
My mother was sweeping at the moment. Her long black hair that matched my own was pulled back out of her face into a ponytail; she wore jeans and a long-sleeved red shirt. We looked a lot alike but I wasn't as tall as she was.
"You could help," she mumbled. "Instead of watching those birds. The whole village will think you're crazy." I ignored her.
I had sat a small figurine on the window's sill of an aarluk made of black baleen and white walrus ivory. I ran my finger over its ebony black nose, across the small indent where its blowhole would be, than over its dorsal fin. Past the white spot on its back that is called a saddle, and down its tail to the fluke.  I ran my finger over the seamless transition from baleen to ivory over the eye patch and down pectoral fin. It stood on a smooth cream and brown bone base.
I looked up through the frosted window and wiped the steam from my breath away on my blue sleeve, the glass felt like ice, the morning sun hurt my eyes. Through the window I saw my uncle walking through the knee deep snow toward our house.
"Uncle Unalaq is coming."
My mother leaned her broom against the wall and wiping her hands on her hips walked over to the window and watched him approach.
He walked through the door without knocking, when he opened it a wall of bitter wind bit into my skin. It seeped through my thin indoor shirt.

"How was it?" My mother inquired of the hunt.
"We didn't see a single seal, Kinaktok." He replied. He'd pulled his black parka's hood off his head, and sat on our dull blue couch with my mother. I could see the concern in his near black eyes.
The implications of what he has said in so few words hung over the traditionally decorated room. The edges of my mother's lips curled down into a frown. A crease crossed her forehead as her eyebrows moved closer together. If the hunters could not find the seals, it would mean famine.
"I could find-"
"No." My mother interrupted me. "No, you could not find the seals." She narrowed her eyes at me, daring me to say I had no intention of searching for the seals. Daring me to speak of Sedna to my uncle who thought the old beliefs were stories of the past. I did not accept her dare. I abandoned the figurine of the aarluk on the windowsill and walked to my room.

Behind my closed door I pulled on my parka, securing the hood tightly over my head so as little of my face was showing as possible. I pulled on a pair of warm gloves, thick pants, and heavy boots meant to keep the wet of the snow out. I lay on my floor near my door, and pressed my ear to the crack between the floor and the bottom of the door.
"Why would she think she could find the seals?"  I heard Uncle Unalaq inquire.
"I made the mistake of taking her to Pukiq," My mother told him. I heard my Uncle drawn in his breath at the sound of the name.
"Why would you take her to that fool Kinaktok?" I could imagine my uncle's face. His dark eyebrows would be mushed together in the center of his face, and his lip would be out farther than normal. His eyes would be barely visible through the slits of his eyelids.
"It was… a mistake." My mother told him. She did not tell him I heard the Raven's whispers.
I stood up quietly and walked to the other side of my room. Opening my window as quietly as possible, I slipped out and dropped the three feet to the snow below, and pulled the window closed behind me.

The snow was up to my knees, but I trudged through the white landscape behind the buildings away from the village. Soon I would be unseen, hidden by the drifts of snow which came easily above my head in places. The trail I left in the snow was unfortunate, but my mother would not notice me missing for a while. She would give me time to forget her interruption.
I searched for ravens, and soon I found them. When I approached them they did not fly off, but merely stared at me with their onyx black eyes. Eyes that matched their midnight feathers that stood out against the snow, reminding me of the small aarluk figurine still sitting on the windowsill at home.
Eelaga, they whispered. What are you doing out here on your own?
I stared at them. An animal had never said more than my name.
What are you doing out here? Where is your flock? Where is your congress?
"They are inside the buildings." I told them.
Why are you not with them? The ravens asked.
"The hunters can find no seals. With no seals there will be no food, no skins to make clothing, and kayaks. We rely on the seals, but they are gone. We will starve. I need to find Sedna, I am an angakkuq, and it is my responsibility."
What of your mother? The birds asked.
"She does not believe I am angakkuq. She will believe me when I find the seals, or Sedna."
There has not been an angakkuq in this nesting area for many seasons.
"But I am here now." I told them simply.
The birds stared. You are here now. They admitted. What is it you want from us Eelaga. Why have you come to the ravens?
"I need to find Sedna, but I don't know how. I don't know where she is, or how I can make her bring back the seals."
You are too young. Still a nestling. You should be with your mother. It does not matter if she calls you angakkuq, you are her nestling.
"I am the only one. The only angakkuq. It's my responsibility. And it does matter. "
The ravens considered this. Go to the ocean, Eelaga. Go to the ocean, search for the seals, search for Sedna.
The ravens gave me no chance to respond, they simply flew away.

The sea. The ocean. I can not walk there. I'll have to go back to the village and get my sleigh, and my dogs. They are in a barn that is more like a shed behind our house with my sleigh. I'll have to be quiet.

My mother is not at the house when I get there. It is likely she is visiting with her brother, and his wife, and their daughter who is only a few years younger than me, before he will head out to hunt again. Because of this I am able to get into the house and grab some food. I put a plastic bag in the cargo bed of my dog sled, it contains frozen beluga, and the boiled walrus my mother and I probably would have had for supper. I had to cut the meat before I packed it and put it in some plastic containers. I also grabbed my pair of goggles that would protect me from the sun's glare off the snow, and keep the wind from drying out my eyes.

Snow passes below the runners of my sled. I only have four dogs of my own, not a full team, but enough. They are Alaskan Malamutes, all have a white underbelly. Kesuk, and Mauja are sister and brother. White beneath, gray on top. Most people can not tell them apart, including my mother but I can. Poallu is my only black and white, he's the traditional color people expect of a malamute. Iluak is my favorite. I have had her for five years now, she leads my team. We cover ground quickly together, I hold on to the handle bar, and stay alert incase I need to use the claw brake.
We crossed over a peaceful, quiet landscape. Cool colors surrounded us on every angle as we crossed rivers, and streams buried under over a foot of snow and ice. I knew where my uncle's tent was, he had told us, as he would be telling his family now where he would be incase they needed to find him, or he did not return. His kayak would be there along with all the supplies he would have for a seal hunt. All the supplies I would need.

My uncle's tent is not far from the ocean. He may not be back until tomorrow. After an unsuccessful hunt, he will drink tea, and eat, and enjoy time with his family, and ask the elder's of the village where seals were found in past hard times.
My dogs stare at me, and I unclip them from their harness. I do not want to leave them here.
"I was able to talk to the ravens." I said to myself. "Listen."
The dogs glanced at me, Iluak sat in front of the other dogs, focused on me.
"I need you to go home." I told them. "By the time I get back, Mother and Uncle Unalaq will probably be waiting for me here. Or at least, they'll come here to get me. You need to go home in case I can't come back right away."
You will get into trouble without me. The words came from Iluak. Despite speaking with the ravens, it started me.
"You're speaking!"
You spoke to me.
"How come you never spoke before?"
You never listened before.
"I will not get into trouble without you." I told her. She reminds me of my mother.
My mother will be angry that I left the aarluk sitting on the window sill. She's told me a thousand times not to leave things sitting out. She doesn't want people thinking her house is a mess. She is always worried about what people will think.
Eelaga, we do not want to leave you. This came from Poallu.
"I have to find go onto the ocean, you can't follow me." I explained to them. "I have to find the seals, or Sedna. I have to prove to her I am angakkuq."
You do not need to prove anything. Only you need to know you are angakkuq. This was Iluak again.
"Please, please go home. I need to do this." I felt slightly odd begging my dogs. But I could not abandon them here to starve in case I didn't come back.
The dogs were silent for seconds that felt like hours. Finally Iluak spoke.
We will go home. But when your mother wonders where you are, we will lead her here. You are a stubborn pup.
The dogs turned and left than, leaping through the snow.

I have found my uncle's sealskin kayak, already equipped to be out in the ocean. The kayak has a rifle, a harpoon, a kakivak, a bow drill. Everything a seal hunter would have, and also some things most do not have; such as the ulu. It is considered a woman's knife, but it makes a great tool to scrape the fat off animal pelts or to take off the fur and make it a skin. It is one of my favorite tools. The handle is made of caribou antler. The blade is round. I am glad my uncle carries it.
I drag the kayak across the iced over and frozen beach that is scattered with glacier-like formations that are two and three times my size. They melt and refreeze into large twisted shapes that sit eerily silent on the shore, leaving half of the treeless beach in shadow.

Before I can get into the water, movement catches my eye. One of the large white bears comes from behind an ice formation. Despite the fact that he was at least thirty feet away, I could tell from this distance his fur had more of a yellow look than white.
What are you doing out here alone cub? He asks.
"I am looking for the goddess Sedna, and the seals." I replied.
You are too young. He said simply. Cubs do not hunt. Cubs learn to hunt from the adults. Go home.
"I cannot. I am the only angakkuq. It is my responsibility." I replied stubbornly, stomping my foot. My mother did not think I could do it, the ravens questioned me also, who was this bear to tell me I was too young?
You are too young. Go home cub. The bear told me again. This time he growled, baring his teeth. I attempted to rush toward the water with the kayak but the bear got to me first covering the ground with amazing speed. He was on me in a breath, his teeth dug into my parka behind my neck yanking me off my feet. He threw me to the ground; the snow below me making the impact less punishing.  His right paw pressed down into my left shoulder, claws biting into my skin, through my parka. His nose was centimeters away from mine, and I could smell the raw meat from his last meal on his breath.
Little cubs do not argue. He told me.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Get off."
He pressed his paw down harder. Must I carry you home?
"Get off." I managed to say again, though this time in a gasp. The pain in my shoulder was piercing, and I was afraid any more pressure would push my shoulder out of socket. The bear turned to inspect his paw, sniffing my shoulder.
You do not bleed. He sounded astounded. The pressure from the paw lifted off my shoulder, and I felt his claws being extracted from my skin. It had not seemed possible they would hurt worst coming out. The bear stared at my shoulder, examining it.
You do not bleed. He repeated. His brown eyes were fixed on my shoulder. Not at all. Not one drop of blood. He simply stood there, his left paw between my right arm and body, his right paw hovering to my left. His nose inspected my shoulder which I thought I may never use again. No blood at all.
The words he spoke sunk in than. I had not thought of blood in the pain, but now I wondered. Claws averaging two inches long had dug into my shoulder and as the bear had stated there was no blood. My shoulder hurt, hurt like it had never hurt before. But there was no blood.
The bear backed off from over me, and I pushed myself up on my right arm.
I apologize angakkuq. I did not believe you.
"Why is it you believe me now?"
You do not bleed. A true angakkuq does not bleed. How is it you did not know this?
"I told you, I am the only angakkuq in my village. Well, there are rumors the elders are inuktitut angakkuqs." I told the bear.
They are not. I have seen the old ones in the human caves. The bears have sensed a true angakkuq in your village recently; we did not think you were a cub. Just a cub.
The bear seemed worried now. I watched his shoulders as he walked away, switching the weight from one side to the other, he disappeared in the distance.

My oars cut through the water smoothly. Below as far into the water as I could see was lifeless, empty. I did my best to use my right arm to paddle with the double-sided oar more than my left, which still hurt but did not bleed. But I quickly realized this would have me traveling in circles, and I forced myself to use my injured arm. I paddled myself out farther away from the shore than I had ever gone alone. The air was colder above the freezing water.
I turned the kayak and looked back at the shore, now in the distance. Than back out to the ocean, empty except for the ice.
"Sedna?" I inquired.
There was silence. All I could hear was the water, splashing against the ice, and my kayak.
"Sedna?" I tried again, a bit louder. Still there was nothing. "Seals?"
I waited, and heard nothing.
A single shadow darting through the water caught my attention. I watched it coming closer.
"Sedna?" I asked, I heard my voice quiver.
A large bearded seal poked his head out of the water. It twitched its long whiskers at me and stared.
Eelaga. It said.
"How do you know my name, seal?" I asked. I had assumed the ravens had heard somebody call my name in the village. The dogs knew me, and the bear called me cub.
How do you know I am a seal?
I glared at the seal. That is not a fair question.
Why are you out here alone? You are too small. You should be with one of the larger ones.
I closed my eyes and looked away. Why did all the animals insist I was too young.
"The seals my village hunts are gone. I am an angakkuq; it is my job to find them."
Can not your village find us without sending their pups? We are not so far away, they have barely started searching.
The seal is right. I know it is. I must finally admit the truth to myself. I have come to prove myself.
"My mother does not believe I am angakkuq." I told the seal. He only stared at me. "I have to prove it! I have to prove it to her; I have to show her I am not crazy, and show the rest of the village that the animals really do speak to me." My eyes were watering inside my goggles. I know I cannot cry, if I cry the tears will freeze.
The seal stared at me in silence. When he finally spoke, it was only one word.
Why?
I started to answer and stopped. Why. Why did I have to prove it to my mother?  I didn't have an answer.
"I don't know." I told him. Now I am confused.
The seal's head turned sideways as he inspected me.
You know you are angakkuq. I know you are angakkuq. The other animals, they know you are angakkuq.
"The polar bear didn't."  Polar bears never pay attention.
This made me grin. I wonder if he only says that because the polar bear is his natural predator. I am still thinking about his question. Why. It is almost no longer a question. Why.
"I love my mother." I told the seal.
Does she not love you? Will she love you more if she believes you are angakkuq? Will an extra name help?
I stared at the seal. It made sense. My mother, would it matter to her? Would she be proud of me?
"No. If she believed me, she would not want other people to know. She would fear they would think I was crazy. She is always so afraid of what other people think. I wish she stopped. I wish she only cared what she thought." I told the seal. It sounded like whining.
But you worry about what she thinks. The seal stated.
I blinked. It is true. I have been so focused on proving myself to my mother that I ran away, traveled to the ocean, I stole my uncle's kayak, and I was now in the water, talking to a seal.
"You are right." I told him. My head hung, my eyes stared at my kayak. I cannot think of what to say. The seal stole away all of the lies I told myself in defense of this trip.
When I look up again, the seal is gone. I look up at the sky; the sun will be setting soon. It is already casting a soft pink light near the western horizon. I stick my oar in the water and turn toward the shore, intending on heading back. I can make it back to my uncle's tent with over an hour to spare before the sun sets and wait for my mother there. She will probably be there in the morning.
A large shadow in the water to my right catches my attention. There are three, no five, coming toward me. My heartbeat in my chest seems louder than normal. The shadows get larger and larger, my mind wants to panic. At least twice my size. Three times. Four times. One shadow goes directly below me, my eyes are wide. A black and white nose breaks the surface a foot from my kayak. Than another, and three more follow. Their appearance shocks me as it is rare for them to travel so far north.
Eelaga. The orcas around my boat whisper to me, telling me the secrets of the ocean.

Story key.

Aarluk         A killer whale. Orca.
Angakkuq An Inuit shaman.
Baleen The thick hair inside a whale's mouth used for filter feeding.
Beluga An arctic whale often hunted by the Inuit.
Bow Drill An ancient tool used for wood work and making fire.
Cargo Bed The basket area of the sled where supplies are kept.
Claw Brake A bar on a dog sled that, when stepped on, digs claws into the snow to help stop the team.
Eelaga The main character. An Inuit name.
Fluke Either of the sides of a whales tale.
Iluak Eelaga's tan malamute. Inuit word for person who does good things.
Inuit Eskimos.
Inuktitut Angakkuq Often shortened to Angakkuq. An Inuit shaman.
Kakivak         A homemade Inuit fishing spear made of wood and metal.
Kesuk Eelaga's female gray malamute. Inuit word for water, sky.
Kinaktok Eelaga's mother. An Inuit word meaning is sharp.
Mauja Eelaga's male gray malamute. Inuit word for soft deep snow.
Narhwal         A whale with a long spiral horn.
Poallu Eelaga's male black malamute. Inuit word for skin mitts.
Pukiq A village elder believed to be an inuktitut angakkuq.
Runners         The skis that a dog sled runs on.
Sedna The Inuit goddess of the sea.
Tasiq The name of Eelaga's village. Inuit word for lake.
Ulu A rounded knife with an antler handle. Considered a woman's knife.
Unalaq Eelaga's uncle. Inuit word for west wind.

Description
Arctic Whispers
The ravens whisper to me. They are often around when I walk through the village with it's small wooden buildings, they perch on the solid roofs. People in Tasiq have begun to notice. Eelaga I hear the ravens call as I lift my feet high in the snow, and I turn to look at them. My mother grabs my wrist which is beneath my thick blue parka that hides most of me in the winter, and tells me not to encourage them. They make her nervous.
Ravens are not the only animals that seem to be around where I am. Some of the village's hunters have realized the large white bears have come closer to the village ever since I was born. My mother tells them the bears have been gradually becoming bolder for a long time now.

Pukiq. He could have been anybody. He lived in a normal white house, with a television, and a computer sitting on a desk that was cluttered with things such as a Kleenex box, a photo of his wife from before she was sick, scrap paper, and a CD case titled The Deluxe Print Shop (Over 30,000 images). He had a single recliner directly in front of the tv with an old wood and glass coffee table in between, and the remote on top. There were marks on the glass of the table where he had propped his feet on it and an almost empty bag of Cheetos, and crumbs. There were indents in the cream carpet where his wife's recliner had been only last year. Garbage on the floor where it wouldn't have been last year. Almost a year's worth of dust. His tanned skin had more wrinkles than before, his black hair was more gray.
There had always been rumors that he was a shaman, an inuktitut angakkuqs. My mother had taken me to him the first day I told her the birds spoke.
"In the days before the church, Kinaktok." He spoke to my mother. "The Inuit believed in angakkuqs. They were shamans, important. Kinaktok, listen to me. They were important, sometimes even the head of the village. They spoke to the sea goddess Sedna on our behalf if the hunts failed."
My mother slammed Pukiq's door as we left.  She told me he was old, and losing his wife had made him take leave of his senses. I must never talk to the animals. Never tell anybody I talked to the animals. It was nothing to be proud of. I was not to see Pukiq again.

I sat near the window of my house, looking out at a small congress of ravens. The spiraled horn of a narwhal was displayed on the wall nearby. Long rectangular paintings of polar bears, wolves, and whales decorated the walls. These were my favorite things in our house. The traditional decorations based on and made of the animals that surrounded us; art created by the Inuit of our village.
My mother was sweeping at the moment. Her long black hair that matched my own was pulled back out of her face into a ponytail; she wore jeans and a long-sleeved red shirt. We looked a lot alike but I wasn't as tall as she was.
"You could help," she mumbled. "Instead of watching those birds. The whole village will think you're crazy." I ignored her.
I had sat a small figurine on the window's sill of an aarluk made of black baleen and white walrus ivory. I ran my finger over its ebony black nose, across the small indent where its blowhole would be, than over its dorsal fin. Past the white spot on its back that is called a saddle, and down its tail to the fluke.  I ran my finger over the seamless transition from baleen to ivory over the eye patch and down pectoral fin. It stood on a smooth cream and brown bone base.
I looked up through the frosted window and wiped the steam from my breath away on my blue sleeve, the glass felt like ice, the morning sun hurt my eyes. Through the window I saw my uncle walking through the knee deep snow toward our house.
"Uncle Unalaq is coming."
My mother leaned her broom against the wall and wiping her hands on her hips walked over to the window and watched him approach.
He walked through the door without knocking, when he opened it a wall of bitter wind bit into my skin. It seeped through my thin indoor shirt.

"How was it?" My mother inquired of the hunt.
"We didn't see a single seal, Kinaktok." He replied. He'd pulled his black parka's hood off his head, and sat on our dull blue couch with my mother. I could see the concern in his near black eyes.
The implications of what he has said in so few words hung over the traditionally decorated room. The edges of my mother's lips curled down into a frown. A crease crossed her forehead as her eyebrows moved closer together. If the hunters could not find the seals, it would mean famine.
"I could find-"
"No." My mother interrupted me. "No, you could not find the seals." She narrowed her eyes at me, daring me to say I had no intention of searching for the seals. Daring me to speak of Sedna to my uncle who thought the old beliefs were stories of the past. I did not accept her dare. I abandoned the figurine of the aarluk on the windowsill and walked to my room.

Behind my closed door I pulled on my parka, securing the hood tightly over my head so as little of my face was showing as possible. I pulled on a pair of warm gloves, thick pants, and heavy boots meant to keep the wet of the snow out. I lay on my floor near my door, and pressed my ear to the crack between the floor and the bottom of the door.
"Why would she think she could find the seals?"  I heard Uncle Unalaq inquire.
"I made the mistake of taking her to Pukiq," My mother told him. I heard my Uncle drawn in his breath at the sound of the name.
"Why would you take her to that fool Kinaktok?" I could imagine my uncle's face. His dark eyebrows would be mushed together in the center of his face, and his lip would be out farther than normal. His eyes would be barely visible through the slits of his eyelids.
"It was… a mistake." My mother told him. She did not tell him I heard the Raven's whispers.
I stood up quietly and walked to the other side of my room. Opening my window as quietly as possible, I slipped out and dropped the three feet to the snow below, and pulled the window closed behind me.

The snow was up to my knees, but I trudged through the white landscape behind the buildings away from the village. Soon I would be unseen, hidden by the drifts of snow which came easily above my head in places. The trail I left in the snow was unfortunate, but my mother would not notice me missing for a while. She would give me time to forget her interruption.
I searched for ravens, and soon I found them. When I approached them they did not fly off, but merely stared at me with their onyx black eyes. Eyes that matched their midnight feathers that stood out against the snow, reminding me of the small aarluk figurine still sitting on the windowsill at home.
Eelaga, they whispered. What are you doing out here on your own?
I stared at them. An animal had never said more than my name.
What are you doing out here? Where is your flock? Where is your congress?
"They are inside the buildings." I told them.
Why are you not with them? The ravens asked.
"The hunters can find no seals. With no seals there will be no food, no skins to make clothing, and kayaks. We rely on the seals, but they are gone. We will starve. I need to find Sedna, I am an angakkuq, and it is my responsibility."
What of your mother? The birds asked.
"She does not believe I am angakkuq. She will believe me when I find the seals, or Sedna."
There has not been an angakkuq in this nesting area for many seasons.
"But I am here now." I told them simply.
The birds stared. You are here now. They admitted. What is it you want from us Eelaga. Why have you come to the ravens?
"I need to find Sedna, but I don't know how. I don't know where she is, or how I can make her bring back the seals."
You are too young. Still a nestling. You should be with your mother. It does not matter if she calls you angakkuq, you are her nestling.
"I am the only one. The only angakkuq. It's my responsibility. And it does matter. "
The ravens considered this. Go to the ocean, Eelaga. Go to the ocean, search for the seals, search for Sedna.
The ravens gave me no chance to respond, they simply flew away.

The sea. The ocean. I can not walk there. I'll have to go back to the village and get my sleigh, and my dogs. They are in a barn that is more like a shed behind our house with my sleigh. I'll have to be quiet.

My mother is not at the house when I get there. It is likely she is visiting with her brother, and his wife, and their daughter who is only a few years younger than me, before he will head out to hunt again. Because of this I am able to get into the house and grab some food. I put a plastic bag in the cargo bed of my dog sled, it contains frozen beluga, and the boiled walrus my mother and I probably would have had for supper. I had to cut the meat before I packed it and put it in some plastic containers. I also grabbed my pair of goggles that would protect me from the sun's glare off the snow, and keep the wind from drying out my eyes.

Snow passes below the runners of my sled. I only have four dogs of my own, not a full team, but enough. They are Alaskan Malamutes, all have a white underbelly. Kesuk, and Mauja are sister and brother. White beneath, gray on top. Most people can not tell them apart, including my mother but I can. Poallu is my only black and white, he's the traditional color people expect of a malamute. Iluak is my favorite. I have had her for five years now, she leads my team. We cover ground quickly together, I hold on to the handle bar, and stay alert incase I need to use the claw brake.
We crossed over a peaceful, quiet landscape. Cool colors surrounded us on every angle as we crossed rivers, and streams buried under over a foot of snow and ice. I knew where my uncle's tent was, he had told us, as he would be telling his family now where he would be incase they needed to find him, or he did not return. His kayak would be there along with all the supplies he would have for a seal hunt. All the supplies I would need.

My uncle's tent is not far from the ocean. He may not be back until tomorrow. After an unsuccessful hunt, he will drink tea, and eat, and enjoy time with his family, and ask the elder's of the village where seals were found in past hard times.
My dogs stare at me, and I unclip them from their harness. I do not want to leave them here.
"I was able to talk to the ravens." I said to myself. "Listen."
The dogs glanced at me, Iluak sat in front of the other dogs, focused on me.
"I need you to go home." I told them. "By the time I get back, Mother and Uncle Unalaq will probably be waiting for me here. Or at least, they'll come here to get me. You need to go home in case I can't come back right away."
You will get into trouble without me. The words came from Iluak. Despite speaking with the ravens, it started me.
"You're speaking!"
You spoke to me.
"How come you never spoke before?"
You never listened before.
"I will not get into trouble without you." I told her. She reminds me of my mother.
My mother will be angry that I left the aarluk sitting on the window sill. She's told me a thousand times not to leave things sitting out. She doesn't want people thinking her house is a mess. She is always worried about what people will think.
Eelaga, we do not want to leave you. This came from Poallu.
"I have to find go onto the ocean, you can't follow me." I explained to them. "I have to find the seals, or Sedna. I have to prove to her I am angakkuq."
You do not need to prove anything. Only you need to know you are angakkuq. This was Iluak again.
"Please, please go home. I need to do this." I felt slightly odd begging my dogs. But I could not abandon them here to starve in case I didn't come back.
The dogs were silent for seconds that felt like hours. Finally Iluak spoke.
We will go home. But when your mother wonders where you are, we will lead her here. You are a stubborn pup.
The dogs turned and left than, leaping through the snow.

I have found my uncle's sealskin kayak, already equipped to be out in the ocean. The kayak has a rifle, a harpoon, a kakivak, a bow drill. Everything a seal hunter would have, and also some things most do not have; such as the ulu. It is considered a woman's knife, but it makes a great tool to scrape the fat off animal pelts or to take off the fur and make it a skin. It is one of my favorite tools. The handle is made of caribou antler. The blade is round. I am glad my uncle carries it.
I drag the kayak across the iced over and frozen beach that is scattered with glacier-like formations that are two and three times my size. They melt and refreeze into large twisted shapes that sit eerily silent on the shore, leaving half of the treeless beach in shadow.

Before I can get into the water, movement catches my eye. One of the large white bears comes from behind an ice formation. Despite the fact that he was at least thirty feet away, I could tell from this distance his fur had more of a yellow look than white.
What are you doing out here alone cub? He asks.
"I am looking for the goddess Sedna, and the seals." I replied.
You are too young. He said simply. Cubs do not hunt. Cubs learn to hunt from the adults. Go home.
"I cannot. I am the only angakkuq. It is my responsibility." I replied stubbornly, stomping my foot. My mother did not think I could do it, the ravens questioned me also, who was this bear to tell me I was too young?
You are too young. Go home cub. The bear told me again. This time he growled, baring his teeth. I attempted to rush toward the water with the kayak but the bear got to me first covering the ground with amazing speed. He was on me in a breath, his teeth dug into my parka behind my neck yanking me off my feet. He threw me to the ground; the snow below me making the impact less punishing.  His right paw pressed down into my left shoulder, claws biting into my skin, through my parka. His nose was centimeters away from mine, and I could smell the raw meat from his last meal on his breath.
Little cubs do not argue. He told me.
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Get off."
He pressed his paw down harder. Must I carry you home?
"Get off." I managed to say again, though this time in a gasp. The pain in my shoulder was piercing, and I was afraid any more pressure would push my shoulder out of socket. The bear turned to inspect his paw, sniffing my shoulder.
You do not bleed. He sounded astounded. The pressure from the paw lifted off my shoulder, and I felt his claws being extracted from my skin. It had not seemed possible they would hurt worst coming out. The bear stared at my shoulder, examining it.
You do not bleed. He repeated. His brown eyes were fixed on my shoulder. Not at all. Not one drop of blood. He simply stood there, his left paw between my right arm and body, his right paw hovering to my left. His nose inspected my shoulder which I thought I may never use again. No blood at all.
The words he spoke sunk in than. I had not thought of blood in the pain, but now I wondered. Claws averaging two inches long had dug into my shoulder and as the bear had stated there was no blood. My shoulder hurt, hurt like it had never hurt before. But there was no blood.
The bear backed off from over me, and I pushed myself up on my right arm.
I apologize angakkuq. I did not believe you.
"Why is it you believe me now?"
You do not bleed. A true angakkuq does not bleed. How is it you did not know this?
"I told you, I am the only angakkuq in my village. Well, there are rumors the elders are inuktitut angakkuqs." I told the bear.
They are not. I have seen the old ones in the human caves. The bears have sensed a true angakkuq in your village recently; we did not think you were a cub. Just a cub.
The bear seemed worried now. I watched his shoulders as he walked away, switching the weight from one side to the other, he disappeared in the distance.

My oars cut through the water smoothly. Below as far into the water as I could see was lifeless, empty. I did my best to use my right arm to paddle with the double-sided oar more than my left, which still hurt but did not bleed. But I quickly realized this would have me traveling in circles, and I forced myself to use my injured arm. I paddled myself out farther away from the shore than I had ever gone alone. The air was colder above the freezing water.
I turned the kayak and looked back at the shore, now in the distance. Than back out to the ocean, empty except for the ice.
"Sedna?" I inquired.
There was silence. All I could hear was the water, splashing against the ice, and my kayak.
"Sedna?" I tried again, a bit louder. Still there was nothing. "Seals?"
I waited, and heard nothing.
A single shadow darting through the water caught my attention. I watched it coming closer.
"Sedna?" I asked, I heard my voice quiver.
A large bearded seal poked his head out of the water. It twitched its long whiskers at me and stared.
Eelaga. It said.
"How do you know my name, seal?" I asked. I had assumed the ravens had heard somebody call my name in the village. The dogs knew me, and the bear called me cub.
How do you know I am a seal?
I glared at the seal. That is not a fair question.
Why are you out here alone? You are too small. You should be with one of the larger ones.
I closed my eyes and looked away. Why did all the animals insist I was too young.
"The seals my village hunts are gone. I am an angakkuq; it is my job to find them."
Can not your village find us without sending their pups? We are not so far away, they have barely started searching.
The seal is right. I know it is. I must finally admit the truth to myself. I have come to prove myself.
"My mother does not believe I am angakkuq." I told the seal. He only stared at me. "I have to prove it! I have to prove it to her; I have to show her I am not crazy, and show the rest of the village that the animals really do speak to me." My eyes were watering inside my goggles. I know I cannot cry, if I cry the tears will freeze.
The seal stared at me in silence. When he finally spoke, it was only one word.
Why?
I started to answer and stopped. Why. Why did I have to prove it to my mother?  I didn't have an answer.
"I don't know." I told him. Now I am confused.
The seal's head turned sideways as he inspected me.
You know you are angakkuq. I know you are angakkuq. The other animals, they know you are angakkuq.
"The polar bear didn't."  Polar bears never pay attention.
This made me grin. I wonder if he only says that because the polar bear is his natural predator. I am still thinking about his question. Why. It is almost no longer a question. Why.
"I love my mother." I told the seal.
Does she not love you? Will she love you more if she believes you are angakkuq? Will an extra name help?
I stared at the seal. It made sense. My mother, would it matter to her? Would she be proud of me?
"No. If she believed me, she would not want other people to know. She would fear they would think I was crazy. She is always so afraid of what other people think. I wish she stopped. I wish she only cared what she thought." I told the seal. It sounded like whining.
But you worry about what she thinks. The seal stated.
I blinked. It is true. I have been so focused on proving myself to my mother that I ran away, traveled to the ocean, I stole my uncle's kayak, and I was now in the water, talking to a seal.
"You are right." I told him. My head hung, my eyes stared at my kayak. I cannot think of what to say. The seal stole away all of the lies I told myself in defense of this trip.
When I look up again, the seal is gone. I look up at the sky; the sun will be setting soon. It is already casting a soft pink light near the western horizon. I stick my oar in the water and turn toward the shore, intending on heading back. I can make it back to my uncle's tent with over an hour to spare before the sun sets and wait for my mother there. She will probably be there in the morning.
A large shadow in the water to my right catches my attention. There are three, no five, coming toward me. My heartbeat in my chest seems louder than normal. The shadows get larger and larger, my mind wants to panic. At least twice my size. Three times. Four times. One shadow goes directly below me, my eyes are wide. A black and white nose breaks the surface a foot from my kayak. Than another, and three more follow. Their appearance shocks me as it is rare for them to travel so far north.
Eelaga. The orcas around my boat whisper to me, telling me the secrets of the ocean.

Story key.

Aarluk         A killer whale. Orca.
Angakkuq An Inuit shaman.
Baleen The thick hair inside a whale's mouth used for filter feeding.
Beluga An arctic whale often hunted by the Inuit.
Bow Drill An ancient tool used for wood work and making fire.
Cargo Bed The basket area of the sled where supplies are kept.
Claw Brake A bar on a dog sled that, when stepped on, digs claws into the snow to help stop the team.
Eelaga The main character. An Inuit name.
Fluke Either of the sides of a whales tale.
Iluak Eelaga's tan malamute. Inuit word for person who does good things.
Inuit Eskimos.
Inuktitut Angakkuq Often shortened to Angakkuq. An Inuit shaman.
Kakivak         A homemade Inuit fishing spear made of wood and metal.
Kesuk Eelaga's female gray malamute. Inuit word for water, sky.
Kinaktok Eelaga's mother. An Inuit word meaning is sharp.
Mauja Eelaga's male gray malamute. Inuit word for soft deep snow.
Narhwal         A whale with a long spiral horn.
Poallu Eelaga's male black malamute. Inuit word for skin mitts.
Pukiq A village elder believed to be an inuktitut angakkuq.
Runners         The skis that a dog sled runs on.
Sedna The Inuit goddess of the sea.
Tasiq The name of Eelaga's village. Inuit word for lake.
Ulu A rounded knife with an antler handle. Considered a woman's knife.
Unalaq Eelaga's uncle. Inuit word for west wind.