Free Skraelings: Clashes in the Old Arctic by Rachel Qitsualik-Tinsley

giant-men.
    Kannujaq’s objective was the boat. Hissing aloud like some mad angakkuq, he ordered several Tuniit men to join him and do as he did.
    Kannujaq flew down toward the water, almost leaping, almost stumbling, head forward, when his legs seemed incapable of running fast enough. At the water’s edge, he threw himself against the bow of the boat. The Tuniit men did likewise. Together, they began to shove the great loon-wolf-thing backward, until even the waterproof stitches of Kannujaq’s boots were useless, as the seawater’s biting cold surrounded his legs. Still, Kannujaq and the Tuniit heaved, and the huge boat did move.
    Kannujaq’s one great worry was the Glaring One himself. He had hoped that the man would join his fellows in feasting. He’d been wrong. Instead, the Glaring One seemed to have gone to sleep in the stern. Siaq and Siku had both insisted that the weird fluid the giant-men liked to drink made them sluggish, but still violent. Could they get the boat away from the beach before the Glaring One woke up?
    Keep on sleeping,
Kannujaq thought toward the Glaring One as he heaved.
Just sleep …
    But there was a sudden, dry, rasping sound—that of a weapon being drawn—and the Glaring One appeared with a bellow. Kannujaq barely fell away from the boat as a great blade bit into the wood near his face.
    The Tuniit, however, at last found their courage. No longer fleeing like frightened caribou, they came together as a team, and put their powerful shoulders into one last heave. By the time they managed to push the loon-wolf-boat away from the beach, all stood up to their thighs in the frigid water, Kannujaq included. They splashed and waded back up onto the beach, shivering from a combination of cold and nervous tension. Kannujaq was the first to turn, to look back and see if the Glaring One dared to climb out of his boat.
    He did not.
    Kannujaq and the Tuniit watched from the shore,panting, shivering. Other Tuniit, with reddened spears in hand, came to stand with them. Kannujaq assumed that they had finished off the Glaring One’s servants. Now, there remained only the leader himself, unmasked, staring at them all as his boat drifted further out into the water. Kannujaq opened his mouth to tell the Tuniit to fetch bows, but one glance told him that they were already sickened by the violence they had committed. He disliked the fact that he, himself, was still ready to kill; and he realized that the desire was born only out of his terror. His fatigue. His fear that a threat still remained.
    The Tuniit were right. He heard the rattle of spears from men dropping their weapons, as though they had become poisonous to touch, on the stones of the beach.
    Kannujaq stared at the Glaring One, now no longer needing to flinch or hide before the other’s gaze. They had killed him, anyway. In a sense. There was no way that a single man could handle such a large boat.
    The Glaring One returned Kannujaq’s stare, his face calm, as though he understood his fate and the fact that there was no longer any need to rage. Currents were already tugging at the boat, turning and drawing it away from the coast. There stood the Glaring One, no longer glaring, but only watching Kannujaq with a hint of sadness. It was a strange thing that there was no hatred in those ice-blue eyes. Only despair and acceptance.
    Suddenly, Kannujaq recognized the colour of those eyes. He had seen that kind of ice-blue before.
    Then Kannujaq understood.
    The Glaring One had never come here for his kannujaq weapons and tools. He was seeking a different kind of treasure. Siaq, the mother of Siku, had kept a secret from them all.
    In a heartbeat, it all made sense to Kannujaq: The Glaring One was a wealthy man. He and his servants had always owned enough weapons and tools. The objects that Angula had stolen meant nothing to them. As with Kannujaq’s own folk, what mattered most to the Glaring One was family. Kin.