“Tomorrow we will travel to the frozen sea.”
We build another snow house. This one is small, for we know we will be moving on. For supper Kootookatook gives me a small piece of walrus meat. She smiles, showing teeth that have been worn down from chewing animal skins. “Eat well,” she says. “There is no more food.”
I chew slowly, not knowing when I will be able to eat again. Sometimes after a blizzard, months can pass before the animals return. Our only hope now is for fish or seals to be speared through the ice. So we set out in search of aglu, the breathing holes made by seals in the sea ice.
When we reach the frozen sea, I kneel motionless, elbows on my knees, my double-pronged spear ready. Hunting parties are all over the ice. Men, women and children bend over holes with spears, hooks, and lines. Silently, patiently, we wait at the breathing holes.
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