Emberwood many the miles

Lucas was half expecting to lay there in silence until Moorhen ushered them up and out again, but the dark-haired Akhlut had other ideas. His liquid blue eyes rose when she addressed him and he answered promptly: mom. That was all he had ever known her as. But there were other clues and he was more than happy to share them without being asked, because he loved to talk.

She never said her name but she's brown like this, he said, indicating his cinereous forearm, and she's sisters with Aunt Indra. She's the prettiest wolf I've ever seen. That wasn't some kind of Oedipus remark, either. Lucas loved his mother but not like that. Still, he thought she was beautiful in the way any loving son thought their mother was, and his memory of her was even more pristine than the real Laurel. Do you know them? he asked, but he was betting not. It seemed very unlikely a wolf from the coast would know the wolves of Bearclaw Valley, which he imagined to be very, very far away.