Grandpapa watched me in silence, stroking his long flowing beard, white as the sea foam, hunched by the weight of his years over his oak branch cane. The waves crashed endlessly over black rocks, sending sea spray that occasionally fell on us, making me shiver, but I could not move from my spot. Not on this day.
The polished serrated knife made from a caribou’s antler was in my hand. It felt so light and smooth, especially compared to the hard and coarse surface of the black lump of bread I held on my other hand. Grandpapa had seeded to me the honor of cutting the bread on this day. This meant I was now a woman grown, an adult. The knife would pass to me. The duty would pass to me.
The bread was hard and slow to cut, but with enough effort, I managed to cut three equal pieces. I gave one to grandpapa, I kept one for myself and one I threw into the sea. The waves swallowed it in one gulp while we chewed our piece slowly, looking out at the endless sea.
“Hungry we came, but the sea fed us.”, grandpapa muttered in a raspy growl. I repeated his words.
“Homeless we came, but the sea took us in.”
“Weak we came, but the sea made us strong.”
Grandpapa went silent for a moment and I waited. I then saw his face turn towards mine, his grey eyes glaring at me. The old bloodlust still flowing.
“Our enemies came, but the sea delivered them to us.”, he spoke once more.
“Now, I am its fury.”, I replied as I raised a hand slowly and watched a great wave rise impossibly high in the distance.
I am the endless sea.