His body turned in a slow semi-circle, following the pattern of the wings taking flight. All he could think to do was to applaud the symphony of geese that filled the sunrise. His hands pounded against one another and reached high over his head. A singular standing O. He was in a state of amazement.

Amazed at the beauty of life. Amazed at nature. Amazed and grateful for being alive. He shook his head and uttered a quiet thank you to the sky, smacked his wide palm against his lips and blew a kiss heavenwards. He turned back toward his machine and that was when he saw it. A lump.

A lump curled up in the fetal position. He walked toward the lump and turned on the flashlight app of his phone. A body. Not a lump. A frozen body. It had clearly been lying on the fairway through winter. He stepped carefully toward it.

It wasn’t moving. There was no breath rising from the shoulders. There was nothing. He shouted, “Hello?” even though he knew there was no point. No movement. He knew he shouldn’t touch it, but he couldn’t help himself. He put the toe of his running shoe against the right shoulder of the body and gave it a gentle tap. No movement. Rigor mortis had turned this body into a solid heap of solid decay. He told himself just one more try before he dialed out.

Billy shoved the shoulder hard, hard enough to see that it was a woman’s face inside of a black hoodie. He made the call that no one ever wants to make. He dialed 911.

“My name is Major General Billy Townsend. I just found a dead Indigenous woman on the golf course I work at.”

“Niglahuktuq,” she whispered to the darkness. “Niglahuktuq,” she whispered one more time to the cold air, watching her hot breath form a thin, grey poof cloud in front of her nose.

“Pihuktuq!” she reminded herself. Keep walking and walking. She knew that if she stopped, she would sleep. If she slept, she would die.

“Mama!” she called out. “Mama!” No answer came to the cold hill she stood on top of. Not one echo of comfort. She had no one to sleep close to on another minus forty night.

She knew she should have taken that winter coat from the mission. They were giving them away, but she wouldn’t take one. She didn’t want anything from them. Not since they took her baby away because the people at the mission had told the social worker that she couldn’t take care of him. As if a parka could replace her son. Fuck Edmonton. She clamped her hands together inside her hoodie pouch.