Wapun Meadow when i was a younger man, looking for a pot of gold

wind guide them. sharply, the redleaf woman looked upwards. not in unkindness, not in disdain -- but in interest, hope renewed. wind guide them. it seemed so simple - it called to no god for invocation, required no worship of abstract and remote idols. it was perfect -- the hedonist's prayer.

"wind guide them," she murmured, gaze low.

had she known aurewen did not think she would ever deserve the lives that suckled at her breast, indra would have keenly glanced upon her again and spared her no sharp lecture; women, she thought, deserved whatever it was their hearts desired. if it was pups, or motherhood, so be it.

their names rolled off the tongue in a manner that was soft and pleasing. indra repeated both inwardly, a smile unfurling gently. "those are pretty names." it had been her opinion that the prettiest names were often the most lofty and exotic -- how simple and dredging her name seemed in comparison..

"the male -- is he still with you?" indra had not missed that there was no 'mate' intoned in those words. "is he not your mate?" an injustice flashed behind her mahogany eyes, but for now she kept her resentment of men tight-lidded.