him.
“Can you talk to me now? Can you please tell me what is going on here?”
He inclined his head slightly, and barely moving his lips, said: “Words must wait, I’m afraid. Things will be clearer with time. For now you must sit and listen and when the time comes, watch for the helping hand.”
He turned away then and joined in a conversation with the man beside him. No amount of tugging on his shirt made him pay the least attention to her.
It was the second time he had mentioned the helping hand. What was he talking about? But she was too discombobulated to be angry with him, so in the end she crawled across the fur rug that covered part of the floor, sat leaning against a wall and did as he said. She listened.
Sometimes taking advice can actually pay off. Once Darby settled with her still-cold hands tucked underneath her armpits, she began to learn a few things.
The smell from the lamps faded out as she listened. The people she had thought were teenagers all turned out to be, with the exception of Sha’achi, adults. Their faces showed their age, and the grandmother’s face was the oldest of all, wrinkled like a rusty apple. They were all strongly built and certainly not very tall, though it was harder to tell in the small interior of the snow house. The house itself was surprisingly spacious, with the floor and walls made of firmly packed snow, and fur rugs and mats scattered around for everyone to sit on. There was no fire or fireplace. The only heat seemed tocome from the lamps and the bodies of the people, and everyone seemed warm enough, except Darby. The same cold lingered on.
The good news was that Darby had found her missing flip-flop, tucked right inside the tunnel entranceway. The bad news was that it warmed her up not at all. She thought again about the knobbly sweater that Nan had knit for her last Christmas, and just the thought of it made her eyes well up with tears. Would she ever see Nan and her strange knitting experiments again? Darby made a vow that if she did somehow make it out of here, she would try to be more patient and kind to Gramps. She would be the model granddaughter. If only she knew how to get home.
“Nanuq has brought us good fortune,” said one man, in a voice louder than the rest. The other voices in the room quieted, and Darby could see that it was the man sitting beside Gabriel who was speaking. His voice was low and warm, and he spoke slowly, as though his words were very important.
“We have come through a time of great loss,” he said. “For the people this has meant much hunger and many long journeys. But the coming of Nanuq means the coming of joy.”
“Is it spring, Mushum?” squeaked Sha’achi, and everyone laughed.
“Yes, granddaughter, Nanuq’s visit means spring is not far away. And the fat seal we will eat tonight is yet another sign.”
Nukum’s thin voice rose above her husband’s. “In my journey, I have seen the most important sign of all—the
atikuat
are near.”
“You are right, grandmother,” came another voice. Darby jumped a little when she heard Gabe speak. She realized that he was speaking in the language of these people.
He was speaking and Darby was listening—and understanding.
This thought actually made her head spin again. She rested her face down on her knees for a few minutes while she tried to get used to the idea. She didn’t even know the name of this language; how could she understand it?
After a few moments the sick feeling passed, and Darby tried her best not to think about it again. Gabe had said everything would be clearer with time, and she had no choice but to take him at his word. When she lifted her head again, he was still speaking.
“And so we must follow the caribou, as we have ever done, even though it means new territory for the people. Because for the people,
atik
means life.”
Nukum leaned forward. “When I left on my journey, I carried with me a heavy load,” she said. “My heart was heavy with
“Can you talk to me now? Can you please tell me what is going on here?”
He inclined his head slightly, and barely moving his lips, said: “Words must wait, I’m afraid. Things will be clearer with time. For now you must sit and listen and when the time comes, watch for the helping hand.”
He turned away then and joined in a conversation with the man beside him. No amount of tugging on his shirt made him pay the least attention to her.
It was the second time he had mentioned the helping hand. What was he talking about? But she was too discombobulated to be angry with him, so in the end she crawled across the fur rug that covered part of the floor, sat leaning against a wall and did as he said. She listened.
Sometimes taking advice can actually pay off. Once Darby settled with her still-cold hands tucked underneath her armpits, she began to learn a few things.
The smell from the lamps faded out as she listened. The people she had thought were teenagers all turned out to be, with the exception of Sha’achi, adults. Their faces showed their age, and the grandmother’s face was the oldest of all, wrinkled like a rusty apple. They were all strongly built and certainly not very tall, though it was harder to tell in the small interior of the snow house. The house itself was surprisingly spacious, with the floor and walls made of firmly packed snow, and fur rugs and mats scattered around for everyone to sit on. There was no fire or fireplace. The only heat seemed tocome from the lamps and the bodies of the people, and everyone seemed warm enough, except Darby. The same cold lingered on.
The good news was that Darby had found her missing flip-flop, tucked right inside the tunnel entranceway. The bad news was that it warmed her up not at all. She thought again about the knobbly sweater that Nan had knit for her last Christmas, and just the thought of it made her eyes well up with tears. Would she ever see Nan and her strange knitting experiments again? Darby made a vow that if she did somehow make it out of here, she would try to be more patient and kind to Gramps. She would be the model granddaughter. If only she knew how to get home.
“Nanuq has brought us good fortune,” said one man, in a voice louder than the rest. The other voices in the room quieted, and Darby could see that it was the man sitting beside Gabriel who was speaking. His voice was low and warm, and he spoke slowly, as though his words were very important.
“We have come through a time of great loss,” he said. “For the people this has meant much hunger and many long journeys. But the coming of Nanuq means the coming of joy.”
“Is it spring, Mushum?” squeaked Sha’achi, and everyone laughed.
“Yes, granddaughter, Nanuq’s visit means spring is not far away. And the fat seal we will eat tonight is yet another sign.”
Nukum’s thin voice rose above her husband’s. “In my journey, I have seen the most important sign of all—the
atikuat
are near.”
“You are right, grandmother,” came another voice. Darby jumped a little when she heard Gabe speak. She realized that he was speaking in the language of these people.
He was speaking and Darby was listening—and understanding.
This thought actually made her head spin again. She rested her face down on her knees for a few minutes while she tried to get used to the idea. She didn’t even know the name of this language; how could she understand it?
After a few moments the sick feeling passed, and Darby tried her best not to think about it again. Gabe had said everything would be clearer with time, and she had no choice but to take him at his word. When she lifted her head again, he was still speaking.
“And so we must follow the caribou, as we have ever done, even though it means new territory for the people. Because for the people,
atik
means life.”
Nukum leaned forward. “When I left on my journey, I carried with me a heavy load,” she said. “My heart was heavy with
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