The Sentinels tristesse

she repeated the word; he smiled broadly at her. "pine," he repeated, reaching out to pat the gathered branches. he said the word again, then brought emaleth to him, to cuddle her for a moment. so fleeting would this time be -- he could only cherish each moment as it came, and for now he preened the lilliputian eartips, the small paws, intending to tickle her with the rush of his breath and the nibbles of his lips.

her soul was calm, but she had come to the same beautiful conclusions and realizations as had deirdre, lasher knew, for he had watched it. what thoughts roiled beneath the surface of her dark fur; what words would she speak; what new witchcraft would she birth into existence? taltos wondered, but he was content. the emaleth of old had been born a woman, who sensed with newborn fingers the pain of her mother, and milk had been her lot, not blood, as would be another witch's.