The Ice Fisher

When the last bit of ice fell through the carved hole, Ahnah's hands felt like they were stung by jellyfish of ice. Cold covered her warm, flushed skin in a blanket as mesmerizing as death. Water sluiced off her fingertips as she shifted to sit on her knees.

Ice was brutal in many ways.

She had never seen a stinging jellyfish, but she knew how to tell a dramatic tale of one. Ahnah had listened to a dozen of them herself. Whenever she thought of jellyfish, her father's voice echoed in her head like a sonorous melody. He talked of bigger things often. Men as tall as mountains, ogresses looking for naughty children, and Sedna, the sea goddess, staring at a large, glowing jellyfish.

Ice wasn't anything like jellyfish, of course. And Ahnah was fairly certain that Sedna had never laid eyes on one. But as she sat there, slowly lowering her fishing pole into the large hole she had carved, Ahnah liked the fictitious nature of her thoughts. It was very isolating, this craft of frostbite and red skin. It wasn't supposed to be, but it was.

Far away, Ahnah could see the men huddled around in their chairs. They dipped their faces closer to their steaming bowls for warmth, and filled the cold air with useless conjecture. The wind whistled in her ears like a faithful companion. She slumped in her seat, holding her rod tightly in cold hands. She had no doubt that they were sneering at her name as well. It made no difference to her. They were on the other side of the lake, and Ahnah was alone.

Because Ahnah was an ice fisherman. And Ahnah, under her heavy parka and pants, was not a man at all. She was a woman, disgraced by the other meaty, daft fishers just because she could piss sitting down. They wanted a needle in her hand, and instead she held a kakivak. She was the oldest daughter, the next of kin child of an elder, and knew how to subdue a stubborn meal. And even though they respected her father, most treated her as a fish that was meant to be gutted.

Something darted under the water. In a flash, she felt a tug at her lure. Straightening her arms to keep the line taut, she pulled upward. Repeating the motion, she tugged one more time, and a fish spiraled through the air. It wriggled and wriggled until it grew tired, and then waved its white flag of stillness, resting in death.

"Poor little devil." Ahnah grinned, triumph stretching over her face.

Pleased with her third catch of the day, Ahnah began to pack up. She tugged the hood of her parka over her head, and turned away from the carved hole. Some days, she felt as though it would take her to another universe if she fell through it, full of jellyfish dressed as stars.

It had been a long day. The hours stretched like long strings of seconds and eons. There was no sun to guide Ahnah through her day in the heart of winter. That bright, fiery giant was hibernating peacefully at the other end of the earth. Tents of animal skins had long since been put away. So Ahnah plucked those strings of time and hummed cathartically as she trudged through the village of igloos.

Soon enough, she was at her doorstep, peeling back the flap of caribou hide. She swung her bag over her shoulder to present her winnings. Before she even made it past the chilly, poorly lit tunnel, a body barreled into her, half her size. Her decade old brother wrapped his little arms around her midriff, burying his face into her coat. He giggled like a tiny madman. As she ruffled his hair with her glove covered-hand, he looked up at her with owlish brown eyes.

"Ahn!" Kanut exclaimed. "You're finally home! Is it dinner time yet, Ahn?"

The boy buzzed like an energetic bee. "Settle, Kanut. Supper is soon, have patience."

Kanut jutted his bottom lip out, holding onto his arms. "Patience is a waste of time."

Ahnah tutted, tugging her dark braids out from under her parka. "No, silly goose, patience is waiting for time to catch up. Now, what did you learn from Aunty Nuvua today?"

The younger boy let out a dramatic groan. "Aaaahn. No more learning! When will we eat?"

"When you tell me what you've learned."

Kanut whined again, but eventually relented. And so, as Ahnah started up the stone stove, her brother flopped down onto the floor of their home, and prattled on. Soon, smoke filled the globe. There wasn't much in the igloo. The living quarters were decorated with ruffled looking cots, stoves were stacked up on frozen blocks, and tools were propped against the walls. But other than that, the arching ice cavern was mainly, well, ice. Without the curious sun peeking through their home, it felt a bit bleak.

Ahnah spined, cooked, and sliced the whitefish with a string-tied dagger, placing it into soapstone bowls. Then, she blew a piece of hair out of her face and sauntered over to her brother, who was lost in his childish ramblings.

Intervening before Kanut could shovel his food into his mouth, Ahnah held out another dish. "Don't choke, little goose. I'm going to go give ataata a dish, alright? Slow down."

Bowl in hand, she wove through the room, ignoring Kanut's grumbling. She grabbed an oil lamp near one of the stoves, and went to wake the dead.

Her father, Siku, looked haggardly, lying unconscious on the cot. His brown skin was pallid and sweaty, and his face was pinched, even in sleep. There were no spirits to guide him through the world of dreams. Watching him with a mix of anguish and love, Ahnah shuffled closer and knelt down on the floor. Her father's hand was hanging over the side of the bed, dry knuckles and old scars unseen. Ahnah placed the bowl on the ground, and gingerly rested her hand in his.

Rubbing the pads of his fingers, she whispered, "Ataata." Father.

Slowly, the man awoke. His groggy black eyes opened first. Bags lined the skin under them. He sniffed with his pointy nose, and smiled at her, lidded eyes closing. "Ahnah. How are you, my child?"

"Well enough. I've brought you dinner."

"Ah." Siku propped himself up on his elbows, and shivered. "Thank you, dear Ahn, for taking pity on an old man."

"You aren't that old."

"You're right. I look young, don't I? You will inherit that trait, I'm sure. Your mother was equally youthful, you know."

"Mhm." Ahnah had inherited most things from her father. Her triangular nose was his, her dark, dark eyes. Her stature and craft. She'd gotten her mothers shoulders and her high cheekbones, but everything else was his. He was the only one left, in the end. Her mother had passed away after giving life to another.

Kanut wasn't aware what his first birthday represented. He wasn't aware that when he came into the world, wailing and alive, a pair of arms were going deathly still around him.

"Come here." Her father beckoned her, waggling his large fingers weakly. She shuffled closer, still on her knees as he wrapped his large arms around her shoulders, rocking her back and forth. "You have that look." Ahnah glanced at him, confused. "You're thinking about otherworldly things again."

"There's so much more out there." She wanted to explore. To dance across the heavens, and run to the ends of the earth.

"Yes." Siku nodded, looking toward the entrance with a sleepy expression. "But the only time you should explore the unknown is in your dreams. I don't want you to get hurt, Ahnah."

"I'm going to get hurt either way!" Ahnah protested, "How can I be fulfilled if I stay here for eternity?"

"Ahnah," Her fathers voice was exhausted; stern. "You are not allowed to leave, alright? One day you will marry, and your days of fishing and providing for us will be over. It was silly of me to give you such a strenuous job in the first place."

A stricken expression flashed across the girl's face. She broke out of Siku's arms, and handed him the bowl, her knuckles as white as the soapstone in her hands. "Yes, father. I won't leave."

Ahnah left her father's side, picked herself up, and went to go eat her dinner. She pretended not to notice the guilt swirling in her stomach. It would only slow her down. Tomorrow will be the same. She would perform her duties, and try to feel satisfied. She would fit into the mold her father had sculpted, and ignore the way her stomach churned. And she would bend over, again and again, watching fish twirl monotonously underneath the lake. Tomorrow...

Her spoon clattered in her bowl. Kanut, fishing out the dredges of his own meal, startled.

"Are you okay, Ahn? Did you bite your tongue?"

She let out a light laugh, and stretched a smile over her face. "No, silly goose. I just realized I forgot to grab medicine from Aunty Luava." She stood up, gathered a small pouch, and tugged the hood of her parka over her head. "I'll be back soon, little one. Don't fret."

This was a reasonable excuse. Her father was ill enough that he'd given the fishing mantle to his daughter in order for them to survive. But Ahnah had grabbed more medicine this morning. The herbs rested near her father's bedside.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was sprinting away from the igloo, letting her legs carry her wherever the wind howled. Ahnah was going to become a jellyfish tonight, gliding across her town like a bright dancer of beauty. She was going to explore.

She ran until her lungs filled with frosty air. By the time she realized where she was, she was standing a good few miles from her fishing spot, near the other end of the lake. The village had held a ceremony for a beloved, deceased elder near this spot, right on the shoreline. The ground of permafrost was far too cold to bury the dead, so they encased their loved ones in stone instead. Ahnah could see the grave near the edge of the shore. It was under a large hill of sheathed blue ice crystals and snow. Ahnah veered towards it, squinting in the dark.

Something pulled harshly at her hood, wrenching her backward. She gasped loudly, struggling against the grip on her coat.

"Stop blubbering," a voice behind her snapped as the hand let go of her parka. Inwardly, she groaned. She knew that voice.

"You scared me." She spun around, glaring. The man in front of her scoffed, his large nose crinkling with something akin to disgust. Most of the men were relatively decent people. Traditional, but decent. Cupun, however, was cynical; cruel. He acted as though all the world was against him, and hurled these ideals back through his words. He came from a separate Inuit tribe, but often traded his works with Ahnah's village, meaning she was all too familiar with his venom.

"Do not act like a child. You shouldn't be out here this late. You're a little far from home, no?" He arched an eyebrow.

"I was going to get medicine," Ahnah responded coldly, gripping her lantern with vice.

"Sure," Cupun said dryly. "Siku is a stupid man."

"Don't say that about my father!" Ahnah bared her teeth. She felt as though there was hot magma rising inside of her. "He's twice the man you are."

"Twice the fool as well." Cupun sneered. "I heard Siku was ill, but to let you run around like an animal?" He let out a sound too malicious to be a laugh. "He must be talking to the spirits at this point."

The wind whooshed Ahnah's body like a pure storm of rage. Her heartbeat was a ceremonial drum in her ears. She wanted to fight. She wanted to-

Ahnah stomped her shoe down on Cupun's foot, hard enough to make him curse. She screamed shrilly over his cries, "You're a miserable, miserable man, and you wallow in your own self-pity by taking out on others!"

A loud crack echoed through the quiet. Ahnah's face jolted to one side. Her cheek was stinging and red, blooming flowers of pain.

"You insolent creature," Cupun snarled, "How will you ever be useful to your family if you speak that way?" His face was blazing with anger. His eyes were crazed. In a flash, he brought a hand down, and slammed it onto her stone lamp. The qulliq fell from her fingertips, and Ahnah stumbled, falling backward from the force. Landing hard on her side, she watched in anguish as the lamp shattered against the unforgiving ice. The flame extinguished.

"Go home." Cupun spat, tugging at his patterned clothing before he walked back into the night.

Ahnah was shaking. Her breath was ragged. She brought a hand up to her burning cheek, and lurched forward, heaving. Trying not to vomit up her dinner, she heaved again. Horrible sobs emitted from her mouth. She clamped her lips shut. The air was splintering around her, cracking loudly.

Wait.

Dread hurtled through Ahnah's body. She stumbled, desperately trying to get to her feet as the ice fractured beneath her. Before she could run, the ground gave way, and plunged her into the ruthless waves.

Her heart felt as though it was exploding. It kickstarted with twice the speed as she thrashed against the icy water. Her hair was floating around her face, and Ahnah was sinking, unable to breathe as the cold encapsulated her lungs. She clawed at the water hopelessly, trying to grip something solid.

It was no use. She was going to drown.

A tsunami of sheer agony overcame her. For a moment, she reverted back 15 years, to a time when the world wasn't so troubling. At five years old, she had fallen through a fishermen's hole in the ice, and plunged underneath. Panic had thrummed through her tiny body as she'd wondered if the monstrous Great Bear would surface and eat her. After she'd wailed and treaded water, her father had yanked her from the lake's grasps, engulfing her in comfort.

Nobody was coming to save her now.

Finding a new kind of vigor in her pain, she kicked her legs once more. A piece of ice met her fingertips, and she held it fiercely.

Ahnah pushed herself onto the ice, coughing up water and trembling. With her feet free from the lake's icy chains, she crawled to the surface of the lake, slumping against the stones. Every breath felt like an arduous task. She dropped her pounding head, staring blankly at the distant ice of the hill. She wanted to lay there for the rest of her life. But she had a role to fulfill, and a brother to get back to. Slowly, Ahnah's eyes refocused.

That's when she saw it. One part of the icy hill was an arched entrance; a cave of unknown beginnings. Recklessly, her heart thundered at the thought of adventure.

Willing herself to get up, she slung her soaking bag over her shoulder, and got to her feet, dragging herself closer to wonder. Her clothes hung like dead skin on her back. Droplets of water seeped into her bones. With every step she took, she thought of turning back, and with every step, she felt a little more alive. It was as though she'd been reborn and left her old body under the icy lake.

Blinking in the dark for some sort of anomaly, she noticed a cupped stone. Resourcefully, she rustled around in her bag until her fingers grasped at a familiar bottle of oil, and pulled it out, pouring it over the concave surface. Then, she fisted two jagged rocks in either hand, and swiftly sharpened them against each other. She did this again and again, ad nauseum, until she lit a spark, carefully administering the fire into the basin-like surface. She sat on the floor, holding the bowl like a chalice of glory. Slowly, she swept her arm around the cave.

As her lamp illuminated the far wall, Ahnah cried out in surprise.

There was a man in a soldier's uniform, immortalized inside the ice.

He looked peaceful, floating there. His hair was dark and moussed, his nose was pronounced, and his face was rugged; handsome. Around her age. Her father had talked enough about war that she recognized a soldier from the Battle of Sitka, fought almost half a century ago.

It seemed impossible. He was a marionette with no strings, evading death.

"Are you real?" She whispered, pushing her face against the ice. His skin looked painted against the lantern's flame. He must’ve been immortal-a monster. The Russian could have been of warrior blood, for all she knew. Still, he seemed so alive, even when frozen.

Ahnah’s mind was a sea of bad ideas. This one was the worst. Even so, she held her candle closer to the ice, and began to thaw him out.

The girl was on the floor, breathless. Only moments ago, the Russian had toppled from the ice. His body was resting on her knees. It must've been close to morning now. Ahnah stared at every curve of his pale face in bewilderment, cupping his chin. His skin felt soft; cold. For a moment, she wished he wasn't dead. She sat there, holding him in the candlelight, and felt inexplicably lonely.

A heartbeat started under her hands. Gray eyes fluttered open, and a man reentered the world. He gasped sharply, jolting backward. Ahnah did the same.

The Russian blinked up at her and smiled slowly. Then, in a cursive version of her own language, he said, “You must be an angel. I'm Ioann. Is this death?”