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“Good boy! Good Six!” Seelie mouths the words more than she actually breathes them into being, but her children have grown accustomed by now to their mother’s quiet way. They must look at her in order to fully listen to her, and because of this, will likely grow to be adept lip readers and keen interpreters of body language.

The sheepdog starts forward the moment her gold cloud child loses his footing and tumbles down, but once she sees he’s okay — and stretches her muzzle forth to sniff at him, because she can’t trust sight alone — she settles back down and watches his swift recovery and immediate retaliation. He is as fierce as the winds off the winter sea, as biting as the salt-sting of the sea, and her heart swells with pride.