Inuit amulet by Helen Jones

The days are dark here.
The nights are darker still.
Empty.
I keep a watchful eye.
A talisman, a protector from the unseen, the unknown.
My master sleeps. He sighs and shifts slightly.
Then silence.
Silence.
Except for the ice. A living, breathing thing. It sighs and shifts slightly.
Then silence.
I keep a watchful eye.
Empty. Nothing out there. Not yet.

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