Arrow Lake — tied knots in the laces of my worried shoes,

As her brother took watch over her cygnets, the far-seer draught from one of the chuckling brooks; only a awhiles away from the thicket she’d roused herself from. While languishing for a spell, she heard the herald of the yearling who’d tended to her mishap only a fortnight ago — and she definitely heard the straggling answer of her son, rabbit-soft ears swiveling to hear that wavering strain.  ( Vonnaruil was beside himself in his own glee. )

It was the perfect moment to tutor Dragomir as well as to answer Goosie. Crescenting the neck her beloved deemed graceful, the spring winds made her own answer diaphanous and husking — low in the breast, deep within the belly. But with Dragomir’s incessant endeavors, the mother was devastated, and her call stuttered into an even airier series of euphoric laughter. Aurëwen couldn’t wait to hear the roar of balaur ei, or the war-cry of belea ei. They would shiver these mountains to their southern roots.

It was on that nestled thought that Aure began to wound her way for Diaspora’s border, tail feathering a languid rhythm at bony hocks. She strode with enough purpose that heads might turn, yet meandered at a mellow gait if anyone wished to accompany her. Adamant as ever, though, anyone would be hard-pressed to stop once she set upon seeking another out; especially as in well of a mood that she hadn’t felt for some time.

She eventually arrived to where Goosie waited in the end, alone or no, with flounce down the crags and chirruping of, “Calan vaer, nestor.” The silver’s words were teasing, airy, as she finally halted with a gleaming smile. “You remembered me? I’m flattered. Are you well?”