Moonspear degrees of light

It can tell them apart, now. One of them, of course, is the Most Beloved. It could never mistake this companion for any other. The pale one is obviously different as well. That just left the other dark-furred creature that looks much the same as the Beloved and - though it has no way of knowing - very much like itself.

It doesn't have a word for these creatures, yet, though it has acquired the knowledge that they should but called something. That everything should have a tag, a callsign, a name. But no one has told it yet, and it does not know. So, in lieu of 'Lyra', it addresses the blue-eyed companion as "Ba! Babababab, bab ba baba!"

It is a joyful exclaimation - another of the companions has gained sight, and it wants the fledgling to know that everything is okay. That this is - apparently - very normal, and that it should stop its incessant whinging and enjoy the new ways in which it is now able to wreak havoc.

It tries, with more incantations of "Baba! Ba ba ba!" to direct its peer toward The Sparkly White Light, but Lyra is intent on being swept off by the Kind Mover. "Ba! Ba ba da," it complains, taking a small, triangle-shaped ear in tooth and pulling insistently toward the Light.