Arrow Lake she's a junkyard angel and she always gives me bread

Cortez, then, and her thin tail flickered in her personal affirmation; but her marred face went alight, like the moon peeking from the skirts of clouds, at the words gifts and new mothers. The silver immediately felt humbled to the point of declining — but, no, whatever reserves she had would be mused over later. For now, though, Aurëwen peered with interest at what was lain our before her; ears swiveling about to catch each word that was said.

”Da, there are two other mothers here,” Aure stuttered, returning to Cortez in a dizzying moment. ”There is Takiyok, who gave birth to four only a few days after my own delivery. And then there is a friend, Blodreina, who is expecting.” A bone to wrestle with: Isilmë, unless one of Takiyok’s children would like it.

​She wondered as to what Drago may favor, but her midwife suddenly spoke and the pale herbalist canted her head up to attention. ”A prophecy?” A few blinks were given in unfocused thought, and with several more she surrendered another apologetic smile. The pollen was getting to her. ”You mean, from your gods? What have they said?”