Excerpt
The old woman smiled and giggled as she pored over them. Ken showed
her how the rolled-up paper mechanism worked and she rolled it farther
and farther back, studying each drawing carefully and nodding her head,
smiling occasionally.
When she was finished, she rolled the paper back to the most recent
ones, pointed to one of the stone structures and said, “Inukshuk” in a
voice like a soft and flowing melody.
She repeated the word and pointed to him. “Inukshuk,” Ken said, disappointed
in his own harsh voice that turned the melody of the word
into a plain, guttural statement. She smiled and nodded. She pointed to a
picture with two stone structures, pointed to one, then the other and held
up two fingers, “Inuksuit!”
“Inuksuit,” Ken said.
She pointed to herself. “Inuk.”
“Inuk,” Ken said.
The old woman pointed to herself and the man and held up two fingers.
“Inuit.”
“Inuit,” Ken repeated.
She smiled and nodded her head. A couple of other people from the
camp came and joined the group, smiling. Ken was full of curiosity and
questions. Were all these people related? There were eight in the camp
– were they a family? But he had promised himself: no questions. Don’t
speak unless you are invited to.
One of the people brought a stone, holding meat sliced almost paper
thin. It was partly cooked, but the inside was red and raw. The food was
passed around. Ken took a sliver and bit into it – a mild and delicious
flavour and a texture that melted in the mouth like cotton candy.
The old woman pointed to the meat. “Tuktu!”
“I wonder what Tuktu is,” Ken thought. He repeated the word and everyone
smiled. “Eeeee,” they said in approval.
As he ate the meat, he noticed the man who spoke a bit of English
looking intently at the 30/30 rifle that had once belonged to Jessica. Ken
picked it up, pulled the lever down to open the breach, and handed it to
him. The man smiled, revealing yellowed, uneven teeth. He examined it,
turned it over in his hands, pulled the lever back and aimed it at various
points on the tundra. Finally, he put it down beside him. When the
women left and walked back to their tents, the man leaned close to Ken
and asked, “How much ammunition do you have?”
He reached into his backpack and pulled out what he had: two boxes
containing 500 rounds each. The man raised his eyebrows and nodded,
then reached into his pocket and pulled out a smaller bullet. “Do you
have any of these?” he asked.
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