Nova Peak If you must mourn, my love, mourn with the moon and the stars up above

Wylla pressed her lips squarely together when Phaedra looked like she was about to laugh. She felt stupid for asking her daughter to help her in this endeavour now. It seemed a certainty that Phaedra would privately mock her now; she would do the very same if Lusca had ever asked her to teach a language that was difficult for an untried tongue.

She attempted the second phrase a few more times until she was satisfied with the sound of it. It still came thick and clumsy on her lips, but it was close enough. He'd get the idea. Then it was Phaedra's turn to ask her question, and this writer will never know what the question was, or how Wylla responded to it before they parted ways.