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Cho woke, her eyes flying open from a sense of something hovering over her. She gasped at two faces above her own.
Panuik and Siqiq burst into laughter and jumped to their feet. They dashed outside.
She sat upright, chest heaving. She was now alone. Sunlight drifted in through the cave entrance. After a second, it hit her. Sunlight? What was going on? Had things not been as bad as Trini projected?
She scrambled to her feet and headed for the cave’s mouth. Outside, the Nuukimak all pointed at the dim sun in a gray sky that reminded Cho of smog. The boys ran circles around everyone, chasing each other, while dogs nipped playfully at their heels.
“Is it over?” Taamaruq asked, watching Trini. “Is Cupuen done? Can we return home?”
Trini studied diagrams on her wrist-comp. She shook her head. “No. It’s a calm in the storm. A temporary break before things get worse. Much, much worse.”
“Are you sure?” Inksuuk asked. Cho couldn’t see his mouth for the leather facemask, but his eyes displayed skepticism.
Trini nodded, her nose wrinkled. “The storm will hit before sunset. Traditional sunset. We need to reach the thorneway before then.”
Yoskalo mumbled under his breath, but Ahnai ushered everyone back into the caves. “Thank Atak for the light, but don’t waste it.”
Cho stared at the sun a moment longer. It offered no warmth. She rubbed her arms as she headed back in.
Her stomach grumbled as she returned to her sleeping bag. She fished out dried fruit and a peanut butter and honey power bar from her pack. The power bar was bland, like stale crackers.
The Nuukimak babbled with excitement and energy.
“Do you think we’ll have sun the whole day?” Kierama asked.
“It’s the first sun in a week!” Umiak said.
“Tend to the packing,” Ahnai scolded.
Kierama fetched some dried patua and offered portions to Panuik and Siqiq with orders to pass them out. The dogs begged the boys for shares, circling them until Taamaruq chased them out of the caves.
Siqiq, grinning, brought some to Cho. Not wanting to offend Kierama, Cho accepted a small portion to avoid depleting what little they had. But as she took a bite, she regretted not taking more. It was delicious. She saved the last two bites for after her power bar and fruit, savoring them.
They didn’t make it far down the mountain before the sleds got bogged down in the snow and ash. The touvak strained to budge the sleds.
“We’ll have to walk,” Inksuuk decided. “Spread the supplies across all the sleds to lighten the loads.”
Trini huffed and stormed off. The Nuukimak eyed her before adjusting the sleds and resuming the trek. Panuik and Siqiq darted around everyone. Before long, the pair started sneaking up on a touvak, slapping it on the rump, then running away, squealing in glee at the creature’s brays of irritation.
When the boys tired of the game, they explored the mountain range, pushing farther out from the group, dogs in tow. Kierama and Umiak regularly scolded them to stay close.
During one foray, something in the trees moved close to the boys. Small but quick. At first Cho thought it was a dog, but realized they were all nearby. The boys had gone alone.
“Boys, get back here,” Kierama shouted.
Inksuuk and Yoskalo handed over the reins to two sleds to Taamaruq and Kierama. They moved alertly into the trees.
“What is it?” Cho asked Ahnai.
The old woman shook her head. “A vaitchak or itkan looking for scraps most likely. Inksuuk and Yoskalo are handling it.”
Despite her words, Ahnai looked unsettled.
Trini activated half a dozen scouts, which swirled around her head.
The boys ran up, eyes wide.
“What are those?” Panuik asked.
“Scouts,” Trini replied. “They search the area and tell me what is nearby. They fly fast.”
She sent them after the men. Both boys’ heads whipped around, following the scouts’ flight.
“Kuvrakuk! Kuvrakuk!” Panuik exclaimed, jumping up and down as he watched the scouts depart. The words translated to ‘very joyful.’
A short time later, Inksuuk and Yoskalo returned empty-handed, their shoulders slumped.
“What was it?” Kierama asked.
Inksuuk shook his head. “Couldn’t find anything.”
“What about tracks?” Taamaruq asked.
“No tracks,” Yoskalo answered.
The Nuukimak shared uncomfortable glances.
What has them so worried? Cho wondered.
From that point on, whenever the boys got more than a few meters from the sleds, someone was quick to call them back. And the men formed a perimeter around everyone, even keeping the dogs close.
“What’s out there?” Cho asked Ahnai.
The old woman stared at the forest, silent for a moment before replying. “The quinniq.”
“That’s what we came for, to find the quinniq.”
Taamaruq frowned at her. “The quinniq are dangerous.”
“But they’re small creatures.”
“Small but mean,” Taamaruq answered. “Vicious.”
“They hunt in packs,” Ahnai added. “Attack vulnerable prey. They’ll never attack an adult, but the children or other small creatures...”
Cho eyed the boys and shivered. “What if they rode on the sleds? They wouldn’t add much weight. Couldn’t the touvak handle them?”
Ahnai agreed, and the boys were loaded onto the sleds amid their protests. But as they resumed their trek, Cho kept watch for the quinniq.
“Catch any footage with the scouts?” she asked Trini.
“Nothing so far.”
“Quinniq are sneaky,” Taamaruq said. “They hide in snow. Hard to spot. Hard to catch.”
“They could be close, but hidden,” Inksuuk said. “In the snow, underfoot even.”
“We’re far from their domain,” Kierama said. “They shouldn’t be around.”
“They’re getting hungry. Desperate,” Inksuuk said. “Cupuen has destroyed their prey.”
******
THEY STOPPED FOR LUNCH in the early afternoon, despite the darkening skies.
“We’ve got four to five hours left before the storm hits,” Trini warned.
Cho leaned against a sled, chewing on a power bar. They couldn’t afford to sit long, though Cho wished they could stay for an hour. Her feet were blistering. The prospect of another five plus hours hiking made her groan.
They were all tired. Even the touvak panted.
On a sled, Panuik whispered to Siqiq. The younger boy grinned and nodded. Suddenly, Siqiq fled from the sleds as fast as his little legs could carry him. Shouts of alarm rose from the Nuukimak, along with yells for him to return, a couple with colorful language.
Before anyone could take more than a step after the boy, something small and white, no taller than his knees, sped across the ground toward him.
When it closed on Siqiq, it jerked him to the ground. He screamed in surprise and fear, and it dragged him into the forest.
Inksuuk, Yoskalo, and Taamaruq gave chase, hollering at the dogs to pursue. Cho lunged to her feet and ran after them, Trini at her side. The dogs surged past them, kicking up snow and ash in their wake.
“Was that a Quinniq?” Cho asked.
“I don’t know,” Trini replied.
They followed Siqiq’s cries through the forest. Other yelps rose from the dogs in different directions.
They halted and spun around. A cry came from the left, another from the right.
“Where’s it coming from?” Yoskalo shouted.
“It’s echoing off the mountain rocks,” Inksuuk said.
“Where is he?” Yoskalo shouted, looking half mad.
More cries drew Inksuuk and Yoskalo forward, but another from behind caused Cho to hesitate. She closed her eyes, listening, trying to calm her racing heart. Dogs barked and yelped. She tried to tune it out.
He was so little.
Another cry. This time she was sure it came from behind them. They’d overrun the creature and the boy.
She sprinted through the trees to rocky hills. It would be hard for the quinniq to drag him up those. She searched the nooks and crannies that she passed, but there were no signs of him. What if she’d gone the wrong way after all? What if the quinniq got away with him?
A shriek from off to her left drew her focus. Something struggled in the trees. Cho thought she recognized Siqiq.
She bolted toward him. Something white and furry bit at his legs. Cho aimed at the creature, but hesitated to shoot lest she hit the boy. Instead, she shot a tree, sending shards of wood and bark on the creature and boy. They froze in surprise, then the quinniq began dragging the boy by the ankle toward a small hole in the rocks.
A shout from behind startled Cho. Something raced past her. Trini, arms wide, charging toward the quinniq and screaming. Again, the quinniq froze, watching her, before this time abandoning the boy. It darted down its hole.
Within seconds Trini reached Siqiq and pulled him into her arms. Blood covered his arms and ankles. He bawled, burying his head in Trini’s shoulder.
Cho glanced at the hole, but there was no sign of the creature.
“Is he okay?” she asked.
“I think so,” Trini answered as she carried him back down the rocks.
Cho sighed in relief.
Moments later, Inksuuk and Yoskalo arrived, the latter taking his son from Trini.
“Thank you.” Yoskalo held his son tight. “Thank you for saving my boy.”
Trini nodded as they all headed back for camp.
“You are Arnakfaalap.”
Despite his injuries, Siqiq insisted he walk on his own once they were away from the quinniq hole. But he stayed close to his father, almost close enough to hold hands. Cho wished Yoskalo would’ve carried the boy all the way back to the sleds to be safe.
Why did I freeze up? If not for Trini and her screams, the quinniq would’ve gotten Siqiq down its hole. Would we have ever gotten him out alive?
I shouldn’t have come. I should’ve stayed home or gone to Tanarille like mother wanted.