Firefly Glen in shape no bigger than an agate stone

The tension eases between them, and she allows herself to smile again. You do, she responds. Milar. He looks much like you. She hasn't seen Milar in some time, come to think of it. How had her family scattered so quickly to the winds, and her completely unaware of it? It must have happened when she was traveling.

Her eyes widen in intrigue. I will have to pay them a visit, she croons, warming further at the thought of more Melonii. Will you join them, eventually? I would enjoy my grandson's company, for as long as my old bones have left. This very well might be her last winter. It isn't a pleasant thought, but she's long resigned herself to her impending demise.