He had been lingering there for a little while, remembering—or, trying to remember.

This world felt very much like purgatory. He had never been taught of such a place, but the perpetual cold and the hidden sky, and the lack of the sun, all pointed to some eternal winter place; he imagined that his spirit had been drawn here when he had died, because... ? No, he did not know that part.

What had come before this? He remembered his father's lodge; he remembered being a boy, and having a lodge-brother; he could sometimes taste the ice-water of a deep sea dive, or think a shadow in the river might be a seal, although he had not seen such a creature here yet. A sigh pulled from the depths of Raiyuk—and he thought he could sense his father, then. His scent lingered strong in the periphery of his mind; then, more solid, came his voice—Raiyuk!

He was on his feet immediately! The figure approaching him looked much the same as any memory; healthier, he might thave thought. More real, less idealized: but it was Chakliux, to be sure! Father? Father! A rush as they met one-another again. The last they had seen of one-another, they had just crossed in to this world; Raiyuk remembered that, too.

I am glad to have found you again! His voice boomed, and he laughed, and he held his father close in the way a boy might wrestle their father, forgetting he was an adult now too. This world seemed so large, but it is not. How have you fared? Where is your lodge—?