Wheeling Gull Isle stand by the stairway, you'll see something

BABBIES

Rokig. She touched her nose to Niamh's last-born son, @Peregrine, who slept soundly at her breast. Or maybe Ro, for short. Either way, as the boy began to lighten into shades of intermittent gray and brown, he reminded her of the man who'd looked much the same. Who had taught her to fish, and given her kindness on the island as a girl.

The trio were getting much too old to be nameless, and though she hadn't spoken the monikers aloud quite yet, they existed. She smiled as her eyes ran down the ruddy legs of the middle girl, @Prevost—that one was easy. Reed, of course. Every time she thought it, her old friend was brought to life once more. 

And the eldest? She thought of the woman who had led her unknowingly to the island, and had cared for her when she needed comfort most. @Vesper became a mini Venninne in Maegi's mind.

So Venninne, Reed, and Rokig. . .but their pale daughter (@Blueberry) remained nameless. Maegi crooned softly for @Mou, who was usually never too far from the den. She groomed the girl with a thoughtful expression, rolling the possibilities around in her brain. Perhaps Relmyna. . .but that would be a lot of 'R' names, and too reminiscent of the Melonii 'M' pattern. 

Seelie? No, she bore no resemblance to the night-black woman; the name would never fit. 

Spirit, she thought, thinking of Relmyna's ghostly daughter, and shivered. That girl had always simultaneously enchanted and spooked her, and she didn't want to saddle her baby with those emotions.

Mou would know—maybe. He surely had been thinking about it. But what was in a name, anyway? He had been called by several: Titmouse, Mou, Screech, others unknown to her. . . Names might be trivial to her husband, who had slurred her own name for most of their relationship, anyway. M'gee. It rang out in her mind, clear as a bell, and she smiled at the memory.