Moonsong Glacier and I'm drinking your wine

Somehow, these words sank in a little deeper than the rest. It was all talk, of course; Dutch believed in action first and foremost. But to hear her speak in such a way called to the storyteller in him. The voice that said, once upon a time, and, happily ever after.

He did not think about, the end.

"Your children will be blood of Morningsong," he said to her. "These ties are as good as blood, to me."

He leaned over to push his nose briefly, wetly to her cheek, but then he was up and stretching once more.

"I suppose I should go and look for that ram," he said, thinking that a climb might be nice either way. "Be well, Eira."