Moonspear this is the art of breaking

Thistle did not hate those that had raised her child. No she felt a kinship to them and a thankfulness, perhaps a slight jealousy. But as a mother how could she be anything but grateful. Her son would have perished without them. She did not know their names yet or who they were, but she would need to thank them some day if she could. She studied him in the light, trying to soak him in. It had been so long, it was hard for her to assimilate the child from the man.

Thistle heard the hey mom and it paused her breathing. It had been far too long. How she missed him, and now look no more a child. Thistle frowned and her heart gave a painful squeeze. He did not go by the name she gave him, the one his father had loved. He was named for his grandfather, but she did not say anything. She swallowed thickly and nodded her head, Well which do you prefer Tevinter? Tev? Or Kjalarr? I will try and remember, though it may take me some time. You're older brother Mercury changed his name as well. You have never met him though, none of you have. She grew quiet then thinking on Gunnar, and Gyda and Mercury, on Kaylan and Ragna...all gone. Though hope did grow, if Jorunne or Tevinter could come back perhaps they could too some day.