Armun was not even startled when there was a call from the distance, a highpitched shout. A small boy, his face-fur a lighter brown than the adults’, trotted along the shore holding a rabbit high by the snare that had caught it. He stopped and gaped when he saw the newcomers. Harl, with the curiosity of all boys, went over to look at the rabbit. The Paramutan boy appeared to be older than Harl, though he was half a head shorter. They accepted each other’s presence easily. Through her great fatigue Armun felt a sudden welling of hope. They might still be alive in the spring!

Kalaleq was a good hunter and well able to provide food for many. Also, as was the Paramutan way, he would have shared everything he had with a stranger, even if it meant going hungry himself. The only battle they had in the frozen north was against the weather. A stranger was always welcome and everything placed at his disposal. And a woman like this one—he could see the fullness of her breasts inside her clothing and he yearned to touch them. And a baby as well—even more welcome. Particularly a child such as this with hair like sunshine on ice. They would be taken care of. And she would know where the hunters were that they had come to trade with. The Erqigdlit hunters always came to this campsite on the shore, always. But this summer he had waited and seen no sign of them. The snow-haired one would know.

Although Armun could understand nothing of what the Paramutan woman said, she felt the warmth and ready acceptance of their presence. She was coaxed into the hut by gentle patting hands, given soft furs to sit upon. She looked about her with curiosity; so much was different here. Her attention went back to the woman who was hitting her breastbone loudly with her fist and repeating Angajorqaq over and over again. It could be her name.

“Angajorqaq? You are called Angajorqaq. I am Armun.” She tapped herself as the other had done and they laughed aloud, Angajorqaq shrieking with laughter, as they called each other by name.