Neverwinter Forest and — it was winter

One small, cocoa-dusted ear fanned outward at Hemlock’s approach. Mama, the snowdrop’s heart cried with a painful wrench, and she cleared her throat to breathe life into the loving term that clung to her tongue tip. Dark lips pursed to form that first murmured syllable, but as Reed tucked herself against Hemlock’s slender limbs and fixed Eirlys with a patently displeased expression, she thought better of it. Her tail whisked behind her, a quick sweep of affection, and she laved the base of Hemlock’s fiery ear with her tongue. “It sounds terrible,” she said, politely and correctly, her voice betraying a flicker of shyness as she surmised, “Äiti — must have been thrilled. She hated the summer heat.” Her tongue was thick in her mouth and her head muzzy.

Almost immediately, she turned her attention to Reed, glacial eyes fixed intently upon the pinched little face and its moue of distaste. “Are you cold, then, mo stoirín?” she asked carefully, clinging to their father’s rich brogue even in his absence. “You, too, little soturi?” she asked of Droman, who made his own way to his mother and tucked himself snugly against her. “What shall we do to keep warm?” Her query, while directed to everyone present, was mainly focused on the fiery little girl. Truth be told, although Eirlys had made herself available as much as possible after the children were born, she didn’t know her half-siblings all that well.

Papa!

She was pleased to note that the old, familiar pain didn’t even turn her mouth anymore. Her expression remained neutral, a smile carefully arranged upon her chubby-cheeked features, as she turned to Hemlock. “What do you suppose?” she asked, keeping her voice light and untroubled. “Wrestling, singing, or telling stories…?”