Downhill, there was a stream. It seemed very muddy and slushy and slimy, but toddler Furaha and I didn’t mind coming here. We know it’s not safe to drink because of the mud, so we run down to the river, where it ripples peacefully in time with nature’s rhythm.
Although my face is in shadow, I splash it with the cold water. My toddler cub sister decides to play around with the mud. She draws a line in the squelchy stuff with the side of her paw, then covers her face and body in it. Seeing her, I decide to cover my own ears, hands and arms in the mud. Inuit children are messy, aren’t they? They always like to do that. It’s an Inuit tradition.
I use my Arctic magic to produce a wooden bowl decorated and carved with images of animals like the polar bear and the Arctic fox. Filling the bowl up with water, I pour it over Furaha, who giggles as the mud is washed off her. She splashes me with water, and I splash her back. She screams!
“Alright, let’s see how muddy we can get each other!” I call out, and soon we are hurling mud at each other, Furaha screaming and yelling in joy and me laughing as I attempt to chase her and throw mud at her. At last, covered in mud, we collapse, laughing like we hadn’t laughed before.
Discovering we are covered in mud, we decide to wash ourselves off in the river. I use the wooden bowl to wash all the mud off Furaha, then clicking my fingers, I produce a huge amount of storm clouds which cover the bright pink sky and darken the valley below.
First, it starts to rain in a light shower. Then it gets heavier. I feel the freedom of the rain as it washes the mud off my velvety soft clothes. “Woohoo! Wheeeeeeeee!!” I shout as I float around the valley near the river, taking in every drop of rain that cleanses not only my body, but my soul too.
Furaha runs with me, her fur wet from the rain, and I pick her up, spin her round and cuddle her softly, as rain pours down all around us, cleansing us in a shower of purity and gentleness.
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