When she stopped hunting with me, life became hard. When I hunted alone, I never had any luck. Then she fell ill and died, and I was left alone in an empty house, far away from our people.
Her absence became so unbearable that I made a wooden doll in her image. The doll was exactly the height and size of my dead wife, and I dressed the doll in my wife’s clothes.
Now, when I come home, she is sitting by the fire. I brush off the ash that has fallen on her face, and while I cook my supper, we talk.