story_qanik_1_1

How many... days... has it been?

Can't remember... Five?

What... are you looking at...?

Over there... it's a nest of fowlbeasts...

You still... have the energy... to be fowlwatching...?

They're... jumping down...

Jumping... down...?

––Crack!

In the distance, a newly-hatched fowlbeast is finally blown dry by the frigid wind. It opens its eyes and sees that it is inside a nest atop a cliff.

Its mother built the nest here to avoid predators.

But now, it faces a problem: before it learns to fly, the only way to secure food is by jumping down the cliff.

It trembles as it steps out of the nest, spreads its fragile wings, tries to let the wind support it, and then takes the plunge–

Bang! The wind blows it over, and it slams against the side of the cliff.

Bang! It continues to roll downwards, the sharp ice slicing through its body.

Bang! It crashes into the snow beneath, the hard and icy snow offering barely any cushion from the impact. It sways its neck slowly, trying to stand up and return to its mother before it freezes to death.

It walks past the carcasses of its brothers and sisters, and behind it, another fowlbeast steps forward.

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

Now, you've also seen the divination showing the outcome of this rescue mission... As long as we try harder to find the path, we'll be able to get out.

Alright? The snowstorm has subsided... C'mon already, let's get going. If we stay here, we're definitely gonna freeze to death.

Actually, does anyone still have the strength to come with me to find the path? ...Everyone else can rest here, and we'll retrace our footsteps later using the markers.

Trust me, divination doesn't lie... C'mon, we're gonna be fine!

We can't stay here forever, guarding these broken down beacons... Please, believe me, if we stay we'll just freeze to death. We need to find a way out!

(In Sami) What are you doing?

(In Sami) Stop! Don't touch the prime tree! Stop this instant, or I'll stop you myself!

Whoa whoa, what are they saying?

No clue. All I got out of it was 'stop.' Are we not supposed to drink this water or something? Or are we not supposed to pluck the leaves?

Why do they look like they're about to attack us then?

Let's all calm down here, shall we––

(In Sami) Hands off the divination objects!

What do you mean? What are you talking about? Can we not place them on the ground either?

(In Sami) Begone from this place!

Sorry, I can't understand you–

(In Sami) Hold on! Don't get mad! They're not trying to do anything bad!

(In Sami) More and more outlanders are coming here. We should not be letting them through.

(In Sami) But they've also brought things that have helped us...

(In Sami) Barely. Sickness is a part of nature, and we have our own ways of dealing with it... But the outlanders do not respect that at all.

(In Sami) They just don't know that you're not supposed to move the divination objects. It's not that they're disrespecting the prime tree, we just haven't told them yet...

(In Sami) They always do whatever they want without asking permission. You must teach them to respect us before we can respect them, or no cooperation can be reached.

...You shouldn't be touching our divination objects, as they come from our sacred prime tree.

The prime tree is our home. Next time, please ask for permission first before doing anything.

...Did we do something really bad?

When an outlander tosses a leaf of the prime tree onto the ground, it's basically the same as if a stranger went and stepped on the head of one of your family members.

Is that something you'd stand by and let happen?

Huh? This tree is your home...?

Yes, it sustains our tribe. We have always lived here, and it has provided us with food and shelter.

We use its fallen branches for divination to receive its guidance. Our people will not allow outlanders to tamper with them.

(*whispers*) Is this guy serious? Divination is like those cheap fortune-telling scams, right...?

(*whispers*) Just keep your mouth shut. Haven't you learned anything? They clearly don't want us messing with their stuff, so let it be.

(*whispers*) Can't we at least ask about it? It'd help us out in our research! I want to see how this thing 'guides' them and if there's any scientific basis to it...

Thank you. Umm...

(In broken Sami) Qanipalaat?

We are only here to conduct research, not to look for trouble.

Thank you for letting us know. If there is anything else we should be aware of, please tell us as well.

Well... the divination objects are extremely important to our tribe, and can't be tampered with willy-nilly. Also, if you plan on doing any hunting, please only hunt as much as you need for food.

Beasts are also a part of nature. If you ask for something from nature, nature will sustain you. But if you ask for too much, nature will also take something back in turn.

Most importantly, you must not hunt any mothers.

Understood. Then... in order to prevent any misunderstandings, could you convey to your tribe our apologies for our conduct?

(In Sami) Leader, I've informed them of what they need to be aware of. They said that they're very sorry, and will make sure it doesn't happen again.

(In Sami) They will be leaving shortly, and I will tell them where to go.

(In Sami) If every outlander was as reasonable as them, maybe the tribespeople wouldn't object to them so fiercely.

(In Sami) ...As long as they keep their word, that is.

(In Sami) Give this to them. If they get lost in the snow, have them shoot this into the sky, and we will come to help.

(In Sami) Got it!

Don't be so down... The divination foresaw a good outcome, and I was able to find you because you shot that arrow.

Weren't you skeptical about whether or not we'd show up? Well, here I am. And the same will be true for the results of the divination, believe me.

The positioning beacon's broken, and your divination is just a bunch of words... It's no use...

No... The divinations are never wrong.

Then... Can it show us the way out?

No... But we can't just sit here waiting. I'm sure we'll receive a sign once we get moving.

I'm here to save you. But I need you to trust me and our divination. Trust that I can lead you out of here. So how about it? Will you take my hand?

What...?

In our tribe, the departed are buried beneath the ice so that they may return to nature... They have become a part of the icefield, and so nature will protect us.

Nature will protect us? What's the point of saying that now...?

Once you've heard it, then you'll believe it too...

Take my hand, then focus on a single snowflake. Direct your attention, close your eyes, and then you'll hear–

A low whisper makes its way into Qanipalaat's ear, which he interprets carefully.

...You can hear the whispers of those who've left us. They have returned to nature, and are with us again.

Drip, drop! A droplet of water suddenly falls from midair. Qanipalaat opens his eyes and looks at the people collapsed in front of him.

Take my hand, and give it a try?

...Do you hear anything?

...Even if we can, so what?

Give it a try. It'll make you feel better. Maybe it'll also help you trust me. Put those broken machines aside, and come find the path with me.

The survivor weakly raises his arm and takes hold of Qanipalaat's hand, skeptically looking at the snowflakes dancing in front of him.

Alright then... But, how do I know... which snowflake to look at?

Once you've found it, it will immediately start to melt.

Pay close attention. You'll only have a few seconds.

...I can't really see...

Calm down. You can do it.

Inhale... Exhale...

Look––!

<color=#000000>Shhh... *rustle*, *rustle*...</color>

<color=#000000>The prey... runs... the arrow... hums...</color>

<color=#000000>Shhh... the crystals... gather...</color>

<color=#000000>Take them back...</color>

<color=#000000>*crack!* ...this time, we... *crack!*... were very successful...</color>

...Did you hear it?

Hello? Hello? Did you hear it?

...'Gather'...

...'We were, very successful this time'...?

Why... That was Nick's voice! Did you also hear it?

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.

The people inside the camp stop to listen.

...There's a different sound upon the wind.

I heard it.

The wind from the icefield always has its crests and troughs. The snow has a mind of its own; all we can do is follow it.

An outlander?

...Impossible. The wind and snow would not carry an outlander's voice.

The snowflake does not melt beneath their gaze. Instead, it flies freely, falling quietly to the ground.

The wind's voice has changed again.

For the Columbians who entered the icefield a few days ago?

...That's never happened before.

...Has the icefield accepted them?

...You also heard the voice of the wind and snow, right?

...The crystal I gave to my son 'opened his eyes'!

We are all members of the rescue team. If they're not back after all this time, they must be in danger. We have to go after them, quickly!

*cough*...

*cough*, *cough*...!

...Huh?!

(I've been buried by snow?)

(I need to dig my way out!)

*cough* *cough* *cough* My crystal... is glowing?

(I need to climb out, now...)

(I can't move my arms or legs...)

Nngh...

*cough* *cough*... Can't... muster any strength...

Grandmother...

Crack.

Qanipalaat hears the sound of snow breaking apart above his head.

Ah, is it going to end here...? Buried by the snow, just like my father? No wonder... I just dreamt of him and my grandmother...

Crack. Crack.

Based on experience, the snow will soon press down solidly around his head, robbing him of sensation in his limbs. His nose will be plugged, and he will become one with the icefield. One with the wind, one with the snow.

Qanipalaat's thoughts disperse, and he seems to once again see tufts of soft feathers. He sees his grandmother's warm outstretched hand.

You didn't answer... the question about the candy yet...

Crack!

The layer of snow breaks apart. Qanipalaat does not see or hear it.

Your hand! Give me your hand!

Qanik? Qanik!

Do you hear me? Don't fall asleep, hurry! Wake up and give me your hand!

Grandmother?

Wake up!

I've got you–!

Wha...!

*cough*...! Mother? ...Why are you here?

I could feel it... I could feel your eyes!

Qanipalaat's mother pulls him out of the snow, along with his staff. Atop the staff, a crystal the same color as his eyes is shining brightly.

*cough* *cough* *cough* Just now... I saw a dream... of Father and Grandmother...

Mother, your body...

Your voice came to me upon the wind. No matter what... I will come to save my child. As well as the children of others.

...Where are the others?

They're... over there...

*cough*... Thank you both...

...I'm not dreaming, am I?

Did the wind also carry their voices back to our camp?

Yes, we heard them. The wind spoke on your behalf, bringing your words to us.

...The icefield chose to save you.

A small fowlbeast flies in circles overhead, chirps, then sheds a feather.

The tribespeople pick up the feather, close their eyes, and meditate silently.

(In Sami) ...Thank you.

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

*cough*...

Qanipalaat, thank you. Thank you all... for saving us.

Is this... the good outcome you saw in your divination?

I can't believe... I survived...

Um, will your prime tree.... uhh... accept our gratitude?

(In Sami) Can they... offer their gratitude to the prime tree?

(In Sami) ...Mm. The icefield chose to save you all, and thus it will accept your thanks.

...The tree accepts everyone's gratitude.

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

(In Sami) ...Thank you.

(Chirps)

Qanipalaat lifts his head. The sunlight shines dazzling white upon the icefield. There is no more snowfall, only a single feather.

It drifts slowly down, landing gently in Qanipalaat's open palm.

(In Sami) ...Thank you.

The fowlbeast flaps its wings and flies into the sky.