Silvertip Mountain i looked up

It had been so long since she had died that any thought of her that came to his mind, whether prompted or spontaneous, hurt a thousand times less than it once had. Still, he felt that customary, tiny pang in his chest when Veeri spoke of his name, reminding him again of his mother.

"Not a star," he said, shaking his head. "It is the name my mother gave me. I keep it, to honor her memory." He paused to think once more, then with a smile, added, "My tribe back home called me Pago--our word for 'snow.' If I call you Veeri. . .you can call me that."

Pago. Another little twinge of sadness brought the corners of his mouth back down to a half-frown, as he suddenly found himself missing his home. Pago. How he missed the sound of that name, spoken in rusty tones from the elders or the sweet, pure flute-voices of the youth. How he missed being in a place where he was truly wanted, needed.