Ice Blink

3: Whiteout

Blind panic spurred Nuna on. All sounds of a struggle faded, and when she looked over her shoulder it was as if the confrontation had never happened, as if no one existed. She could no longer tell where ice ended and sky began, and the fog and snow had become something more, something so much worse.

A whiteout.

Chunks of ice loomed startlingly close, but Nuna did not slow down, not even when the ground rocked beneath her. It was as if sila had congealed and thickened, breaking the boundary between spirit and flesh and blood.

What was happening to her world? She had thought life was so secure. The only challenges they faced were surviving, hunting, getting through the next winter.

The snow muffled everything but the rasping of her panicked breath and the crunching of her steps. Flakes stung her face and weighed on her hair.

I shouldn't have run. I should have stayed. I should have helped my brother, my father, and my best friend. But Nuna knew in her heart that this was the right thing to do. Aneguin had thrown her across the channel because she was the lightest, and she was the only one who could warn the village.

How could the two strangers have been so commanding and terrifying? Why had they acted like they had an entire tribe at their backs? The word army was a foreign one to Nuna. Skirmishes sometimes broke out between quarrelling families, but this seemed like something more.

She had to get home as quickly as she could.

The wind increased to a howl, throwing snow at her from all directions and slowing her walk to a shuffle. Even with her body bent into its force and her hood tied closely around her face, she could barely move.

The whiteout was so confusing, she could be wandering in circles and never know it. She could be heading out for open sea. At least her tracks would be covered, so the masked ones would have a hard time following her.

Nuna tried to focus her mind's eye on the sight of the village. Her hearth at home, burning merrily. Qignaaq's igloo. All of these things would calm her when she arrived. She could do her duty, tell Qignaaq what was happening, and all burdens would be their leader's. Qignaaq would decide what to do and Nuna would just have to follow her orders. Was she weak and selfish for taking comfort in that thought?

She stumbled on for what felt like hours as the storm slowly sapped her of strength and resolve. Was this the never-ending blizzard, back to plague them forevermore? Any tears she might have shed would have been instantly frozen on her face.

Nuna sank to her knees. The cold had become bone-deep. She was so tired, so sick of fighting the wind while it laughed in her ears.

That was when she saw him.

The white bear was invisible in the storm, but she spotted his black eyes and nose, and when he padded towards her, his massive bulk emerging, her scream froze in her throat.

Against a bear, she had no hope – she could not outrun, outswim or outfight him, and she had to hope he wasn't hungry or territorial enough to want to attack. The bear was the only animal that actively hunted people.

Its huge body blotted out the world, an unstoppable force.

Nuna lowered her gaze, praying to the spirits.

The bear stopped, and she looked up.

Those eyes... Those dark, beautiful eyes...

Could it be?

Hope dared to flicker in her heart.

Was it him?

Five years seemed to fall away until she was alone on the ice – on a different day, when the sun blazed in a meltwater-blue sky, checking the fishing traps along the bay. That was the day she had found the drowned white bear, caught in the net, and gave a cry of horror and sadness at the demise of such a beautiful animal. Still, she had thought, the pelt and meat of the bear could be put to use, nothing could be wasted. Nuna was struggling to heave the carcass out of the water when she heard a squalling sound.