Swiftcurrent Creek pearls

Akavir listened—and he did so with a carefully guarded mask—the same he had learned to keep in place over the years when life continually battered ones soul, for he feared if he revealed his surprise at the words that came, or his concern, Lestan would no longer confide in him.

And at the end, he felt a vast, gaping bridge between the both of them—the very same way he felt of Reverie, and he came to recognize this feeling as one of complete loss. He did not know how to bridge that gap, and he did not know what to do with the nonsensical words—he could not help, and then, glaringly obvious, he did not even know if there was anything to help.

What if the two were simply eccentric, and would always be so? Who was he to declare such was not normal?

Only when it affected the creek as a whole, as it had been the past week or so, would he need to make a decision on what to do…

But his main focus was his children for the moment—his capacity to lead two grown adults as if they were also children seemed next to impossible.

“And… how is this woman connected to a deer, Lestan? How is Reverie connected to the Mayfair’s, if this is… a curse.” The word curse again—he did not argue it. Could not.


And what had Lasher done to invoke, in at least Lestan's mind, such an event that had occurred?