Sequoia Coast currant

they were a picture for a moment, an image of parental affection.

an illusion.

"airasëa. galathilion." he struggled, yes, but looked resolutely for any corrections wilwarin might give.

he said the names again, looked down at the sons.

did she remember the pain?

did she remember the death?

or had she dreamed that whole time away?

he hoped she had.

he thought of the black down, showering upon she and the young ones, and how the lightless quills had soaked in the red which also surrounded her boys.

a name came to him, but he did not like it.

it surfaced again, and he gave it voice; over airasëa the dreamer murmured, "lightning shell."

third-born and the first to shine in that snow shelter beside the sea.

and the second, bright as the blood which had heralded him. "sunchaser."

bright names, names meant to glow as the star web did.

he glanced at wilwarin now, wondering what she thought of the names. wolf dreamer himself did not know what to make of their sound.