Moonspear sound

Anang Sia, Sialuk cooed to them both, her name to them a simple two-syllables. Braatang Acrux, she said, nudging her son. The dark boy then cooed his sister's name, and Sialuk beamed. Â! Sistrang Maggak! Her tail thudded against the ground, fully enjoying the process of her son and daughter learning their names, her name, and how to communicate with not only one another, but with her as well. It was a slow, tedious process, she knew, but already she could feel a stronger pull on her heart toward the two children.

Taatang Argent, she said, pointing to where he most commonly slept, Anang Ele, for the babes' co-mother. She watched them with bright, curious eyes, her ears alert for more parroted words that might tumble from their mouth.