Cedar Sweep there’s a lake of stew and of whiskey too

NOTE: The word Lotte uses is a Finnish word, but I am altering its meaning to fit my purpose.

Hemlock gripped the tail of Lotte’s violently whirring thoughts and gently drew the young mother-to-be back to a safe middle ground. Now that she wasn’t flying wild with fear or being dragged under by shame, the inexperienced leader breathed — leaned — in equal parts grounded and buoyed by Hemlock’s reassurances. It pleased her to be tended to by a wolf other than the fiery-eyed Ceannasach, for although the songbird treasured her husband’s company above all others, she felt at times that turning to him in times of weakness negated her ability to support him. Speaking of which, “But Arturo always shines,” she protested, mild confusion in her eyes. Lotte was no ingénue, but she saw the gangster through heart-shaped, rose-colored glasses. Every memory of Arturo was stamped with a glowing watermark as molten and golden as his smitten mate’s heart. His very silhouette drew her attention, svelte and tall and stalwart. Below the surface of the water, Lotte’s coal-colored tail thumped in slow motion. “See?” she asked dreamily, obliviously referring to a light that lived only in her own eyes. She couldn’t un-see it anymore than the wolves around her could make themselves see it — and contrarily, if there was any female who did, well.

Turning her attention back to Hemlock, Lotte reflected on a realization that, in this temporary oasis of peace and quiet, seemed particularly significant. “I do not compete with you,” she confessed, a note of surprise stealing away the sleepy blurring of her syllables. “When Ceannasach came to me and said you had returned, I expected to be jealous, as I once was of Olive and Furiosa — or suspicious, as I am of August.” It was no secret; ever since reaching her majority, Lotte had harbored a new disinclination toward other mature females. “What I feel is — oh — ” She turned her glimmering argent eyes to the lightless sky as her lips quivered. What was it about this journey that weakened her so?

“I have surun aihe for you,” she said in a voice thick with emotion. “It is a word we use in the Enok Tundra and I do not know its mate in your language.” Lotte’s tongue felt too thick for her mouth as she attempted to explain: “To have surun aihe for someone is to feel the hurt they feel — even though it is not your pain — but it is more than that. It is a bad feeling. It is helpless. You cannot take the pain from them or make it better; you can only know it is happening and want to share in it — to hurt because they are hurting.” Banríon fell quiet for a moment. “It is a bad feeling, but it is felt with good reason,” she added. “It means that wolf is a kindred soul.”