Near the sea there was a small village. Instead of the usual hustle and bustle, there was only gloomy silence. The pale women watched in silence as the cold fishermen returned from the shore.
Like yesterday, they were returning empty-handed. Just like the day before yesterday. Even the hunters were sad. No one had brought back even one small fish.
For the villagers, it was a disaster. The gifts of the sea were their daily diet. Besides fish, they used to hunt seals, walruses and whales, but these had long since disappeared. It was as if the sea was suddenly empty of all life.
No one knew what to do. Where could they get any food? Outside a long, bitter cold reigned. The men sat silently mending their empty nets. The mothers were helpless: What would they use to make hot soup for their children now? The children, too, just wandered aimlessly through the village, too hungry to play.
Only one of the mothers refused to sit in silence and watch everyone's misery. So she took her son by the hand and led him to the sea.
When they arrived, she told him: "My son, go and ask the sea what has happened. Ask where all the fish and seals have gone."
The boy stared at his mother, puzzled. "Ask the sea?" he asked, confused.
His mother replied: "Your grandfather and great-grandfather were both shamans. They were thought to have miraculous powers and could talk to the sea. No one believes in shamans nowadays, but you have their blood in your veins. Who else could talk to the sea but you?"
The boy watched the roaring waves without a word. The strong wind whipped at his cheeks and sprinkled them with icy drops of water. The boy did…