The Daughter of Sedna

Amai’s aged hands deftly pressed the lampblack into the hole in young woman chin with the fine ivory needles of her trade; a gift from her husband from long ago.

“Ah granddaughter,” laughed Amai, “you are doing so well.”

“Really, Aana?” The girl’s eyes were filled with tears, but she did not allow even one of them to grace her cheek.

“I do my dearest Kiiska.”

The girl cringed again as the needle bit into her olive skin once more but grinned despite the pain.

Amai remembered her first tattoos from so many long nights ago. She thought of her sisters and children, but mostly she thought of her mother whom she wished would call her home.

“Have I told you the story of how I came to this tribe?”

“Of course, Aana, you came here when you married Ataataga.”

“Oh, I suppose that is a truth, but perhaps now that you are a woman you would like to know the whole truth,” She handed Kiiska a piece of caribou hide to wipe the blood from her chin.

Kiiska grinned at the thought of a new tale and then cringed as the three lines down her chin stretched in uncomfortable ways. 

“I thought you might,” grinned Amai right back at her, “but first come with me sweet girl.”

Amai led the girl from her own earthen home, across the frozen tundra and through the archway of whale ribs to a small secluded tent, set far away from the rest of the tribe. She pulled back the seal skin flap of the door and beckoned her granddaughter inside.

The sealskin tent was cold and lit only by the dim light of a whale oil lamp. In the corners were piles of polar bear and caribou furs. Laying across the only earthen chair was the ancient pelt of a ring seal. The white hairs had turned grey with age.

“What is this Aana?” Kiiska looked scared, as they all did when this part of the ceremony began.

“Didn’t your mother or your sisters give you any hints?”

The girl’s wide eyes told her that they had not.

Amai, clucked her tongue and laughed.

“I thought you were going to me a story.”

“Ah, yes and so I am.” She gestured to the sealskin and Kiiska wrapped it around her shoulders and shivered.

“Our land is filled with spirits. Some are kind to us, but most should be feared. It is your first cycle and you do not yet know how to follow the Pittanliniq, the rules that our wise men have set forth to keep the evil spirits away from our hunters. You must learn to avoid their seats, and how to use rabbit skin and moss to avoid bleeding on their furs. You are surely the most beautiful young woman in our village and will attract our bravest hunters to your hearth. It would not do for you to make a mistake and bring a vicious Urayuli down upon doting young men.”

“Oh,” Kiiska said eyes downcast tears once again sparkling in her eyes, “no I would not wish to bring a wolfman down upon my lover.”

“Now, granddaughter, none of that. A brave girl who does not cry for her first tattoo had no reason to cry over lessons to learn.”

The girl’s spine straightened, “Yes, Aana. But what am I to do in this tent?”

“Ah,” Amai laughed again, “this tent is a ruse.”

Kiiska looked at her Aana in wide-eyed alarm.

“When I was young your Ataataga was this villages greatest hunter. One day he took his Umiak to my island. He was like nothing I had ever seen before. Strong and handsome. My mother and sisters warned me to stay away from this creature who dared to hunt our shores, but I could not resist his strange beauty. The first night I came to him wrapped tightly in my skin and just stared at him while he slept. On the second night, I did the same thing. On the third night he was waiting for me and took my skin from me, piled me in his boat and brought me home as wife to this village. It is here I have lived my life and birthed my children and loved your Ataataga deeply.”

Kiiska was leaned forward in the earthen seat, bruised chin rested on her hand.

“We are not only of this village. We are children of the Mother of the Sea, Sedna. Whose fingers became all of the animals of the ocean. And if you were to feel brave and take my old skin that you have clutched tightly in your hands, you could go see her yourself and learn of the magic of the woman of our line.”

The girl breathed deeply; brow furrowed.

“Won’t it be cold and lonely there?”

“No child. Come with me to the shore, your sisters and your mother are waiting for you there.”

Amai hugged her granddaughter and ducked out the door into the moonlight before Kiiska could see the tears that she could no longer contain.

The old woman and young girl walked hand-and-hand to the beach where the last ice of winter stood like curious polar bears on the shore. They slowly wound their way through them, until at last they could see the ocean. The water was calm, not a waver touched were they stood. In the silver of the full moon Amai could make out the heads of the five ringed seals that waited for their youngest sister to join them beneath the waves.  

She helped Kiiska out of her heavy fur parkas and wrapped her faded skin around her granddaughter's shoulders. Together they walked into the icy waters. The water just touched their waists when Kiiska let out a wild yip and dove into the darkness.

Amai was then alone, watching six seals play in the moonlight. Tears glistening.

“Mother,” she whispered to the ocean, “when may I come home?”