I never in a million years would have thought I’d ever write something like this. But I agree with the idea that the more limitations you have, the more creative you become. And I needed a writing prompt for today, anyway. So, when Mia and Reece kept talking about narwhals on Twitter (you will have to ask them what started that, I’m only an outside observer! 😉 ), I casually mentioned that someone needed to write them a narwhal flash fiction.

Of course that someone ended up being me.

Funny how things happen, isn’t it?

This ended up being fun to write, as they always are. However, I did actually do a whole lotta research for this tiny story (thanks guys! Ergh). That being said, it still may not be 100% accurate, as it deals greatly with the Inuit culture. (Tuugaalik, btw, is Inuit for “narwhal”, at least according to National Geographic…) If you happen to read this and you are an expert on the subject, do feel free to get in contact with me and let me know if anything can be improved! I’d much appreciate it!

And with that … enjoy!

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Tuugaalik

Akiak had always been brave.

She remembered that as she clutched her parka more firmly around herself and tightened her grip on the harpoon. The breathing hole in the ice glimmered beside her, empty. As empty as it had been for hours now.

Maybe I should move on. Find another one.

The day slipped swiftly past, and she could not return with nothing. This was her first solo hunt. Her first chance to prove herself a hunter.

I can do this. I was born amid the worst storm the elders can remember, and yet I did not make a sound.

Yes, patient and silent, that’s what she must be now.

I helped Father fight off the polar bear that thought he might be a seal, and did not run away.

Strong and fearless now, she had to be. Despite the cold that crept beneath her heavy layers of caribou fur. Despite the stiffness that ached in her muscles. She would stay and wait. This was a breathing hole, and a creature of the sea would use it, eventually. They needed to breathe as much as she. They would come. They always did.

Akiak said a brief prayer to Sedna, pleading with her to release the beasts from the depths of the sea, promising much gratitude for a successful hunt.

The soft lap of water at the ice made her eyes fly open, and the hiss of abruptly released air startled her. She fell back from her crouch onto the ice, then scrambled again to find her feet and lifted the harpoon with a thrill of glee.

But then stopped.

A mottled gray and white back filled the hole in the ice she’d been watching, not the familiar face of a seal she’d been expecting. The blowhole opened and sent another plume into the air, and Akiak stared.

Tuugaalik?

Not the prize she had been waiting for. A bigger, better prize than a seal, yes, but she did not have the means to harvest a whale. Not now, by herself, with only one harpoon, no drags, and a sled much too small for the bulk now resting at her feet.

But the mottled skin was beautiful. Regret and frustration tangled in her chest. She looked back toward the barren horizon, her village far off. The whale would be long gone by the time she found anyone to help bring it in. Resigned, she huffed a breath into the frozen air and bent to lie flat against the ice. She put the harpoon down and reached a hand out carefully, gently, then touched the whale’s back softly through thick gloves.

“Why?” she whispered to it. “Why are you here? Why do you come to me now? Thank you for the offer, tuugaalik, but you have very bad timing.”

It puffed another breath in answer, then slowly descended back into the water. Akiak watched it descend, and then scooted away from the breathing hole a bit as it rose again, this time tusk-first.

A male then, a larger one. It’s tusk was as long as she, fantastically spiraled, and unbroken. She watched the point break the surface of the sea, watched the length of it lift toward the sky, her frustration buried in a wave of awe. It’s rounded head finally emerged above the ice, as if he were trying to get a good look at her.

She smiled at him. “Yes, I see. You are very handsome.”

He seemed to be waiting. For her?

She reached out again and brushed the tusk with gloved fingertips, then gasped as her vision exploded into light and colors. Her body hummed, whale song echoed in her ears, and she saw the great depths of the sea as if she’d swam them herself. She knew every part of them intimately, and wanted nothing more than to return to them indefinitely.

The tusk slipped from her fingers and the ocean around her vanished, leaving Akiak gasping on the ice. Tears had frozen on her skin, and she glanced down to the breathing hole only to see the tip of the tuugaalik‘s tusk submerge, the water closing over him until nothing of him remained.

Akiak caught up her harpoon and scrambled away from the hole in the ice, heart racing.

No. No, it’s the cold. The cold is getting to me. I’ll have to try a different spot …

She caught up the leather handle of her sled and marched resolutely across the ice. The wind roused for the first time that day and chased her steps, and as it brushed against the snow around her, she swore she heard it whisper.

“Come home. Come home …”

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