In the north far away from all things we held dear, we sallied forth to explore an odd glacier called deer. Our trek stitched a path both hither and yarn, up Over Mountains and valleys and farms we asked honored Torngasak to keep us from harm.

We trekked during days and at time during night, guided be beacons of pale aurora light, rivers and curtain, sheets without end we wondered if this is how all rainbows end. Each morning we rose and glanced to the east, and wondered if polar bears danced when we sleep.

The tundra gave way to pale frozen snows and frost stitched cold patterns across glasses and nose, ghostly breath rolled away with each passing step we had hoped that the spirits of lands weren’t upset. We were cautioned by Inuit’s and nomadic tribes not to follow Tootega or we’d drown and die.

Each day shorter now as out trek headed west, and into the lands of jəngettet, koryak, and jəngatʀat, apparitions they say of pale shifting fogs. We pause at the base of the glacier we sought, it towers above us and we camp on the spot.

We camped at the base and to our surprise a shaman appear before cold tired eyes. The blue sterno flames of the campfire light dance across the glacier during the night. Small twinkles and sparkles of blue beacon light, illuminate things that are dead in the night.

The full moon has risen in pale milky white; the aurora begins much to our delight. The shaman explains when aurora appears that dead souls start playing arsarniq across the night skies and then disappear before your eyes.

Irdlirvirissong dances and clown with the moon. To laugh at this demon clown will seal your doom. Restrain yourself with all your might or the demon clown will dry you up and eat your intestines during the night.

The myth as it goes and told through the ages that elk and deer laughed at this sight and Irdlirvirissong paused and then turned around and sealed these animals into the ground. To ensure their spirits couldn’t rise Irdlirvirissong cast a long hoary breath and set this vast glacier on top where they rest. The elk still escaped but the deer still remain and that’s how this glacier garnered its name.

Donald Guadagni is an international educator, author, and writer currently teaching and conducting research in Beijing China. His publication work includes fiction, non-fiction, poetry, prose, science fiction, fantasy, humor, academic, romance, humor, International photography and his artwork. Former iterations, military, law enforcement, prisons, engineering, and forever the wayward son.