She was hungry. The pain in her stomach was nearly unbearable. It had been a few months since her father had hunted anything fresh, and their caches were meagre, not to mention far between. Her family kept 4 caches, all located at different locations, one near the sea, one inland, one at the top of a hill and another at the side of a lake. The inland cache had been emptied by other passers by, but food could not be owned, and the family did not begrudge that need of others.Â
The cache at the top of a hill still had a fair bit of food, though ermines had got between the gaps in the rocks. Ulluriaq blamed herself, she could see that in her fathers eyes too. She had insisted on helping him cover the meat, not realizing the actual amount of work that entailed. She had gotten sloppy, and lazy towards the end. Rocks were heavy after all, and she was still just a girl. She didnât fill the gaps properly. Her father knew, but he didnât say anything. Ulluriaq was grateful, tensions between her father, mother and herself had been high lately, inflated by the hunger and exhaustion. Ulluriaq knew her mother blamed her for this time of hunger. She began to wonder if indeed she was the cause.Â
Tha fact that she saw visions, and had unusual gifts and talents... though they were no good to her today. She had a knack for recognizing the presence of animals... well, small animals, and birds. Lemmings, buntings, minnows, even geese and foxes had a knack for finding her too. She had a strange kinship. Her father said she was likely a shaman, like her uncle. Her mother called her an abomination. Her mother said that they would starve to death because she was a wicked girl. She didnât mean to be a wicked girl. She couldnât help it..Â
She had met her uncle a few times, though hardly remembered him. It had been so long. She remembered a time when her mother looked forward to meeting him again. He was kind and happy, always making time to listen to her when she wished for attention. Until she started telling her parents of the things she would see in the lamp, or in the stars or the ripples in the water; that was when they stopped seeing her uncle.Â
The cache by the lake was the most prosperous. They managed a few weeks worth of meals from it, even after leaving a portion for others who may need it as well. Once that had gone, they really had nothing to eat. They walked south, to the cache by the sea. Weary and thin, that cache was quickly becoming their only hope of survival. Unfortunately, on foot they still had a ways to go. Ulluriaq wondered if they might have to start eating the skins from their clothes before they reached the shore.Â
Her mother fell suddenly to her knees, then sat back onto her feet, swaying backwards with the weight of the baby on her back. Ulluriaq rushed to her âAnaana, are you okay?â she asked, kneeling in front of her. âPlease save my baby, whatever happensâ her mother said. Ulluriaq looked into her motherâs eyes, gaunt and hollow and tired. She sensed what little life force remained. Her mother needed food; they all needed food, but nursing an infant, her mother was the most effected. âItâs okay, we can rest for nowâ she said, and began creating a little shelter with snow and the caribou hides they carried.Â
That night, as her family slept in the small tent they had managed to erect, Ulluriaq lay wide awake. She had to do something; she had to feed her mother. She crept out into the night. The full moon was shining brightly on the snowy landscape. Immediately she was faced to face with an aqiggik. She was bemused.
The bird looked her straight in the eye and said:Â âYou are a good girl. Come, I give myself to you and your family so that you may see another day. I think my sacrifice will not be in vainâ
Ulluriaq stood silent, shocked. Did the bird really speak to her? it said words to her? She maintained eye contacts with the creature, despite her shock. The she realized that she must take action. She chased the bird, and when she finally caught it, she broke its neck. It was warm in her hands, and soft. She held it up to see it better in the light, it looked just as any ptarmigan would; and yet, it spoke to her. It gave her an opportunity and she took it. The bird saved her life. She gently pulled the tail feathers out and stuck them upright in the snow. âThank youâ she said âfor this chance youâve given us. I will remember thisâ.
She rushed back to the tent and woke her parents, Though small, she knew from old stories that a single ptarmigan could feed over 20 people in a time of starvation. Her family of four could live on that for days, at least.Â
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