Tornuaq slept soundly next to the pale faced stranger as Unulaq stood guard. The whales and the Ijiirat were gone but both brothers could still smell danger in the air.
Unulaq could feel the shiny blade in his ijirat skin pulse with life as he stared at the fire. The fire took his mind off the knife but he had been keeping it safe from his brother's greedy eyes for well over two hours now and he could feel the blade getting to him. Not enough to overtake his will, like Unulaq was sure it had taken Tornuaq but he could feel it was more than a tool. It had a presence and possibly even a mind.
Tornuaq had not slept a wink. He pretended to sleep when his brother looked in his direction. Sleep was important out in the open snow. A tired hunter was a careless hunter and a careless hunter was as good as dead out here. Tornuaq could not stop thinking about the blade and the mountains. His urge to charge headstrong into the mountains had left him, but Tornuaq was angered to his very core that his brother, whom he loved so dearly, could keep something so important from him. He did not yet need the knife, but Tornuaq knew he would have to have it soon.
Maniitok had been gone now for six hours and should be arriving at any moment with many of his people if everything had gone to plan. Now shivering from the cold and the eerie sort of omnipresence of the knife, Unulaq looks over at his brother and finds him staring right at him from across the fire.
