“That boy didn’t learn one damn thing from me,” he said to Ubluriaq. “Giving himself over to trash when he’s already trash himself. What in hell do I do with that?”

Ubluriaq looked over at Chevy. “He’s mine now. Aviak just gave him to me. I’ll take him out when I please. You, you can go back to wandering around the tundra, Old Man. You won’t need to follow him around anymore.”

“Don’t,” Chevy said. “Just don’t. Give him a chance. Take Aviak. She’s the one that has to go. Please. And for the record, she didn’t whistle.”

“She did earlier in the day. She called me in like she always does. I’ve been waiting around for her final go-ahead. You’re so busy looking in pity at your boy you didn’t even notice me. He’s going to be a fine meal.”

“No, please don’t.”

“You can never call back a hit once it’s been whistled in, Old Man. You already know that. See you down by the riverside. I’ll be preparing supper for two.”

Ubluriaq disappeared. Kunak felt a small splash of wind against his face as he wandered from the safety of the tiny park and started to walk toward 106 Avenue. This was a different area of town for both of them. Aviak’s blanket was flung over Kunak’s left shoulder and all her trinkets and pencils were touching one another and creating a hollow song of their own.

“Evil spirits who talk across the sky . . . where did you hear that one?” Kunak asked Aviak.

Aviak was swinging her tiny feet along on the sidewalk in rhythm with the trinkets. “My anaanatsiaq told me about them. She used to hear them at night. Especially through early winter when the sky starts to crackle with the lights. One night she took me outside and made me listen to them and I heard what they said. They told me then that I would end up South and selling myself and everything else I could. I knew I would be this.”

“We should find a shopping cart,” said Kunak. “A shopping cart to put your stuff in. It’s easier, you know.”

“And they told me that I would have a man come to me and try to make me better. Are you him?” Aviak stopped shuffling. Kunak kept walking.

“Are you him?” Aviak shouted. “Are you?”

Kunak stopped and glanced back. “Nope. Not me. Were you married to a white guy?”

“Why do you change the subject? And yeah, I was married to this guy from Norway or some place like that. I was young. Can we stop and rest?”

They stopped in a school field. There were children running around. Laughing. Playing. The way that only children do.

“Do you miss being a kid?” Aviak asked him.

“I really miss being a kid,” Kunak said quietly. “I miss not having to think about my next meal. I miss being able to have my biggest worry be whether or not I was going to go fishing. I miss my Grandpa Chevy.”