Redtail Rise juhla

Time ticked by, minute by inexorable minute, but Eirlys never doubted that Mallaidh was going to make an appearance. Maybe that was naïve, which was the one thing the colorpoint female shouldn’t have been at this point in her life, but somehow — against even her scribe’s understanding — the girl remained an inherent optimist. Had she been aware of her brother’s negative thoughts about himself, Eirlys would have protested vehemently. Ceallach had spent the most time with Lotte out of all four siblings; Roarke and Mallaidh had been separated from their dam far too soon, but Eirlys simply had spent more time with papa. That was probably why she had adopted the lilting brogue of Quicksilver Hollow — her father’s brogue — instead of the rollicking accent of the Enok Tundra. Beyond his speech and his familiarity with the tundrian language, though, Ceallach had inherited so much of the truly good things about Lotte: her love for storytelling, her surefootedness, her protectiveness.

“Your grays are handsome, rakas,” she countered. “If äiti heard you say that, she would say she was all grays.” She whuffled, wondering where Mallaidh was and if they should call again — but at that moment, a melodic howl proclaimed she was on her way.

Excitement whipped the pleochroic depths of Eirlys’ eyes into twin sea storms; she grinned at her brother, mouthing fondly at one of his long, graceful ears. Then she bounced, throwing up her head and singing for the sheer joy of it. She didn’t have her mother’s vocal range or volume control and simply threw out a few undulating howls, punctuated by excited yips — and then, too happy to stay still, she began to chase her own tail. Her chubby frame wasn’t particularly bendy, but she was pretty sure she was going to catch it this time.