Fairspell Meadow ambaróne

Ishara was a beautiful name. It ran over and over in Wilwarin's mind, although she need not focus so hard on it to remember this woman, who was wise and beautiful and so kind to let her stay! To help her through whatever waas to come. Yet she did, because the name was beautiful.

She opened her mouth to try and mime her own name: Wil-wa-rin as best she could. It would've been easier if she had a sibling with her; a sister to tell the name aloud, so that it could be known. There was no way to be sure Ishara knew it.

Besides that, the woman wasn't really listening. She moved to tag Wilwarin and then floated out of reach, inviting her back to a game, and Wilwarin was pleased enough to let the more serious matters settle for the time being. She dove in to a play-bow as well and soon was frolicking in the snow, happy again.