qanik

Was that Nick just now? But isn't he...

The group stops apprehensively.

Over there...

Qanipalaat points into the snowstorm to a crevice in the distance.

Did you hear his voice? ...Seems like he was accepted into the icefield.

...I still remember him. He was... an excellent researcher.

(In Sami) Return to the embrace... of fertility... and nature.

The others remain silent for a while, close their eyes, and then awkwardly recite the same hallowed words as Qanipalaat.

(In Sami) Return to the embrace...

(In Sami) ...of fertility and nature.

That...

That divination you mentioned, and what it foretold... Can it truly get us back safely?

Come. Both of you, blow a breath of hot air into my hands.

What... Why?

It's a way to find our path.

I'll roll everyone's warm breath into a ball, and it will lead us in the right direction.

Just like the knot on my staff. Everyone receives this knot on the day they're born, hand-woven by their parents. It'll protect us, no matter where we are.

Okay then... So I just need to blow some hot air, and we'll be fine?

As for what you need to do next...

Believe in it. Believe that it will guide us to the right path.

(In Sami) ...Thank you...

Qanipalaat stands up from the wind-sheltered cave and rolls the ball of ice forth.

He whispers quiet words of prayer and taps into his Originium Arts.

The ball wobbles a few times, then begins to roll.

Come on, it's starting to show us the way.

I can't keep going for much longer...

Our gear fell down an icy ravine! It's too dangerous! We can't go any further!

...I just came here to do some research. I don't wanna die.

The ball of ice is still showing us the way... We just have to hang in there a bit longer!

If we stop now, the path will soon be covered completely in snow. Stay behind me... Just trust me, okay?

Everyone, please follow a bit more closely! The ball is starting to melt!

Please trust me! We need to find the way back before it completely melts...

...I don't see any path at all!

Are we going around in circles...?

I... I don't think this ball's going to get us back to safety...

Don't say that...!

The ball leaves shallow tracks on the snow before it suddenly melts, becoming a new layer of ice on top of the icefield.

It didn't work...

The ball can't hold up for long without everyone's faith in it...

Are we... lost again?

*sigh*...

We're getting closer! Head leeward for now. Don't stop here!

Stop talking! We ought to conserve our energy for walking...

Hey! Squat down!

Don't let go of your rope... Crouch, and find somewhere you can take shelter!

Don't loosen the rope! ...

Oh my... Look what they've done to this place. They left without putting out the fire.

Where's my bow? How about my boots?

I can't find a darn thing. Think they grabbed my stuff?

Mother, shouldn't our knots be hanging from the roof in commemoration?

Qanik tied them all onto his staff, didn't he? ...Mm, I can feel it.

*sigh* I wonder how Kusugaq's leg is doing. Their mother keeps getting further and further away. Looks like she won't be coming to see us for quite a few years.

No, I need to leave something behind, at least as proof that I've been here...

A flock of fowlbeasts flap their wings and fly through the window.

They perch along the chairs and tables, sharpening their pointy beaks and tiny claws against the frames. They playfully overturn dishes and plates, and pull out neatly-arranged drawers.

They continue their noisy romp, their feathers flying across the room.

Mm. Now that's more like it!

I'm back...

Mom... I want your vegetable soup...

Ahh... Why is it so delicious this time...

...But why isn't my home here?

I need to go home... Please take me back home...

Back home...

My, oh my. You really deserve a spanking, messing up the whole place like this...

Haha! But you couldn't even tell that I lived here before... At least now I've made my mark on this place!

...Huh? Who's talking?

The fowlbeasts are startled by the sudden noise. They flap their wings and fly out the window. Large swaths of feathers continue to drift by, obscuring Qanipalaat's vision.

As the feathers subside, his vision gradually becomes clear again.

Ding, ding. A bright-red knot hangs from a dead tree on the icefield. Its incomplete threads droop down, falling onto the snow.

Layers of footprints spread out like another great tree growing horizontally, the knot spreading along with its roots.

Qanipalaat recalls a story his mother told him.

How hemp is changed from plant to rope, how it was dyed, how it was woven by her and his father. How it was hung on the tree, and finally, how he clasped it in his hands as he braved through the wind and snow.

The knot trembles slightly, and Qanipalaat looks down at his hands.

This knot was on my staff... Why is it here?

He stands on his tiptoes, removes the knot, and re-attaches it to the top of his staff.

Rainwater falls from the sky, nourishes the tree's leaves, and sinks into the swamp.

A crystal sleeps beneath the swamp. Qanipalaat looks down and sees his face mirrored across the ripples on the water's surface, his eyes covered by a soft feather.

I can't see my own eyes, but I know that yours and mine are... very similar?

Qanipalaat reaches down and scoops up the crystal. It splits into two pieces – one sinks back under the water, while the other he takes to embed in his staff.

Countless feathers swirl into the sky until he can no longer see anything, and can only hear a soft sound.

It is as if he is back home. As if his father and grandmother are softly lamenting that no trace of them remains there.

...Have you returned? Does that mean you won't have to leave anymore? I've been to so many places over the last few years, and have so many things to tell you.

I'm working on a big ship now. There are tons of people there, from all over... Father, I also got them to try the food you always used to make!

The people there also made this outfit for me!

Also, they helped me make a new set of ropes. I put away the set you made for me, right here in this box!

I want to keep them safe, and only wear them on me at the most important times...

Qanipalaat laboriously takes a step forward, holding on to the feathers covering his eyes. He hazily steps over dead branches, ice and mud, and extends his hand.

His hand grasps at air, yet it also feels like hugging a fistful of warm feathers. It fills him with warmth.

The knot and the crystal sparkle, as if they have something to say.

Qanik, your mother embedded this crystal into your staff for you. It will serve as your eyes. Do you still remember what I taught you?

It means you can see past the wind and snow, find who you wish to find, and reach the destination you need to reach.

Qanipalaat clenches his hand and holds his staff tightly. His father and grandmother appear in the snow. The latter smiles at him, so tenderly, so kindly.

If you see a snowflake on the icefields that will not melt, that is me. If you see a fowlbeast flying through the skies that never stops to rest, that is also me.

We will always be with you.

...Return to the embrace of fertility and nature... Thank you.

...Thank you.

Qanipalaat's lips move.

Grandmother, how did you make that tree branch candy for me when I was little?

I... I miss that taste so much...

The cold wind blows into the camp, rustling knots and tree leaves.