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“The growing warmth of outside bled into Oonban’s mamateek and enticed him out from under his furs. But the age of his body and the shape of his wife beside him kept him down. Chipchowinech lay on her back. Lips slightly parted as a thick lock of graying hair lay across her mouth. Carefully, conscious of his hard and calloused old hands, Oonban reached across and moved the hair out of the way. She stirred and her eyes opened slightly. The sun rose for the second time that day; now in his heart.” — Max Davine
The growing warmth of outside bled into Oonban’s mamateek and enticed him out from under his furs. But the age of his body and the shape of his wife beside him kept him down. Chipchowinech lay on her back. Lips slightly parted as a thick lock of graying hair lay across her mouth. Carefully, conscious of his hard and calloused old hands, Oonban reached across and moved the hair out of the way. She stirred and her eyes opened slightly. The sun rose for the second time that day; now in his heart.