Barrow Fields tessellate

If there was a wolf upon the island that Komodo had not had the chance to get to know better, but had wished he had, it was Maegi. She piqued his curiosity upon his initial return to Undersea, many moons ago — she was different than many women upon the island in a way that was difficult to pinpoint. Perhaps, if he had been able to turn his attentions away from Seelie and Serein and Sirimiri for a moment, he might have been able to exchange more than pleasantries with the girl, and then he might feel like he actually knows her. If anything, her appearance heralds the idea that they are close to home.

Home? What’s that? Did he really just think that phrase, in his own brain, with his own thoughts? 

“‘Ay,” he called out, picking up his gait in order to meet her in her approach. He could not help but let a sincere grin pour forth as thoughts of the island, and the wolves that inhabited it, and how the gods had blessed such a place, came rushing back to his mind — as if they had left for even a moment. “Thuh trip was good, but we’re fine-a-lee back naw. Venninne — ” it was so weird to call her that “is ‘round heer sumwhere.” Yakone was not, but that was not quite his news to tell — so he didn’t.

“How’re yew ‘n the uthers?” he burled quickly, in a brusque manner. His questions had intentions. “How’re th’pups?” He did not mean Fern, Reed, Droman or Mur.