(( don't want to play the birds too much without your permission, so I'll try to leave them mostly to you <33 pm me if i do something wrong or misinterpret something, haha ))
KAYUQTUQ "KIT" AALUK
She is a vivid dreamer, as she has always been. But today it is the same as before. Endless ivory ice with swelling obsidian veins. Something massive lunges from the black in the distance, but the dream ends before the spray of the water fades. This dream of what she assumes is home arrests her, locks her in its embrace, repeats over and over until it begins to toe the line of a nightmare.
Aput is awakened, but she is not. A peculiar sound piques his attention and rouses him from his slumber. He quietly taps into Kit's sleeping senses, navigating carefully around her dream lest he be sucked into it along with her. He will rouse her only if she needs to be woken. She is tired, the little one.
He waits for the noise to pass but it only grows stronger. Mentally, he tilts his head, curious but also wary. It grows louder still and he no longer hesitates in drawing her from her tumultuous slumber. Kit jumps to consciousness with a violent start, stumbling back on her bed of worn pelts and nearly back into the side of her makeshift lean-to. Aput soothes her with a quiet hum until her labored and panicked breathing quiets to more shallow breaths, and until he can bring the frightened child to focus.
She calms, but by then, the noise has stopped. Driven by her Pokesoul's curiosity, the girl steps to the front of her shelter with trusted dagger gripped tightly in one hand. Her other nervously thumbs her orca tooth for a moment before small fingers reach to cautiously peel back the drapery that covers the opening of her lean-to.
Kit peers carefully out with one dark pupil flitting to and fro, searching for a potential threat. With no people or Pokemon in sight, however, she steps with great care from her shelter with the slowest and most apprehensive of movements. There seems to be nothing.
She nearly turns back to take cover once more until she feels more comfortable to emerge to hunt, but the sound that Aput had heard while she had been asleep chimes softly. She whirls around to see a glimmer of ice and nearly lashes out at it, assuming it to be a Pokemon. Aput, however, stops her. It's not, he murmurs to her. Muscles ease but only slightly as she takes the time to examine the small thing.
It is ice, alright, but it is not just a random shard. On closer inspection, she sees that it is formed into the shape of a bird, perched atop her lean-to. Eyes follow their form and to something peculiar--paper. Brows furrow with confusion. Curiously, carefully, she steps forward, a hand extending slowly toward the ice being. It waits patiently, still, while she gathers the courage to take the scroll.
Hands open the parchment and her gaze skims the words. Frustration curls her lip. She doesn't know many of them. It would not be until later, under more intense scrutiny, that she will even realize that one of those words is her name. But she sees "people," and she sees "history," things she'd remembered from the book about Alaska. "Discover," too. Those three are enough to draw her interest. There are instructions, too. She looks back to the bird. They are harder to figure out, and while he thirst for knowledge growls to be sated, her impatience urges her to the source of this strange message.
Hand extends, palm facing upwards. The ice comes to life with a pleasant tinkle, wings twitching to motion. It hops to her palm, and, startled, she brings her other hand to cup it. It gives the softest of glows and another clink of ice, before spreading its wings and ascending. It flies away a bit, then hovers and turns back a bit, patient, as if it waits for her. Lips twist with confusion, looking up at it expectantly.
Should we follow it? she asks uncertainly of Aput. He considers it for a moment, then gives her a nod from within.
In several minutes, she re-emerges from her lean-to, sleeping roll securely cocooning her belongings, attached to the back of her parka in a makeshift pack. Warily, she looks about again, nervous that some trap will be waiting, but there is only the bird. Kit ventures toward it, nervous.
"Where to?" she asks it softly, as if she expects it to answer, unused tones rasping a bit from misuse.