“Morning Mist in Mountains,” Caspar David Friedrich, 1808, WikiArt.

Part 2: Arctic Fox Companion (Last)

Rocky escarpment obscured by morning mist,
I, Brithe, picked my way to Svinnr’s den, calling
Whistling, into rising heights, pieces of gristly
Meat, far-distant yapping heard, he searched for
Me as I was him, from this moment relationship
Began, tail-wagging greeting, meal gobbled down,
First touch of anxious hand on furry back, pack-
Family we became, one concerned, caring for
The other, hikes amongst fiord shores, across
Verdant pasturelands.

Early fall arrived, snow-mixed windy rain, Svinnr
Abandoned rocky den, scratches at homestead
Door. Cold-hungry into my arms he fell, first
Realization of fire, he cleaned wet fur, steaming
Warm, bites of fish and meat. Where I slept was
His den, on my bed, wet nose upon my face,
Fluffy tail tucked tight, curled up behind my
Knees. First light Svinnr bounded out, tracks
In wet snow, mid-morning he returned, stream
Caught fish his gift, expectations eat together.

With great delicacy, sharp knife, I gutted, cut
Thick fillet, roasted on hearth coals, all this
Done whilst he waited in comfort of my bed-
Den, lost amongst wool blankets, caribou
Hides. How quickly he learnt comforts of
Home, his place guarding door, low growls,
Nose air-sniffing when strangers were afoot.
More I had to learn, next morning, we went
On hunt. Armed with bow, arrow, I followed
As he chased Arctic hare on the run.

“Daughter of a Viking,” Nicholas Roerich, 1918, WikiArt.

Like all creatures communicating without
Words, we did the same, my hand on Svinnr’s
Warm side, his paw placed across my arm.
Or at night, with both front legs, he hugged
My arm, nip my hand if I tried to move away,
Whilst some may doubt, he communicated
With his eyes, in time, thoughts I could read,
Every bit human in finest of regards. Thus,
Was our life together, Svinnr, Arctic fox, and
Me, Brithe, on Greenland hills and vales.

Thanks for reading this Brithe and Svinnr two-part poem. 

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