Stone Circle how we love is what will last

“Neither,” she answers and finds humor in that.

Taktuq’s laughter must multiply wherever it goes, Tauris feels it bubble up in her own chest. It’s not an intervention of grief, but a companion to it. They could hold onto a little life by laughing with the dead. And by being present, standing with the paws of a hundred generations before the stones who had seen the life and death of five thousand years.

Her eyes trail the plait of emerald ferns before lifting to Taktuq’s face, tail shifting with wonder.

“Do they all have names?”  She asks of the seer stones.