A regular house had a window made of seal intestines sewed together. Or it might have a pane of thin clear ice.
Papik and Milak were busy all this time, too. They pushed loose snow into the cracks between the blocks. Then they helped shovel more snow all over the house and tunnel. When they were through, it looked just like a snowdrift.
unpacking dry heather
Inside, their father cut a small hole up through the roof for ventilation. Cold air would come into the house through the tunnel. Hot air would leave through the hole in the roof.
Next, their father dug the middle of the floor deeper, leaving a snow bench all around the circular room. He tramped hard on the floor to pack it down. Then he sprinkled water on it to give it a hard finish.
Milak and her mother were ready to make the beds. They unpacked bundles of dry heather—a plant with tough, springy stems—that they had collected in the summer. They spread the heather on the snow benches. This was a mattress. Over it they laid deerskins, making one big blanket for the family.
The snow benches were seats as well as beds. Often Papik and Milak sat there cross-legged, while their parents made tools and clothes or sang or told long stories.
snow bench