Broken Antler Fen this is not the sound of a new man

’Tavina?!’

The cry filled the air and drew the inkjet beast to a pause. Atlas frowned, turning his sunset stare to the figure of a young female – mixed. She did not look like anyone he had met; smaller, oddly colored, odder in shape. That she spoke to him with such familiarity slacked his jaw and drew his brows into a creased expression of wonder. Tavina was not his name.

No.

The rough edges of his voice were sharper than intended when they struck the open air. The inkjet titan did not shift his expression. Atlas loomed there, staring at the stranger with perplexity and impatience. Moonspear was so close. He did not wish to stop for things like this, for strangers who called false names into the wind.

I am not Tavina.