Noctisardor Bypass what stupid poem could fix this home?

She arched an eyebrow at his preposterous suggestion, then snorted. Artio quickly discarded it, his thoughtful expression leading Druid to believe he was now trying to come up with a better alternative.

What about Tio? Although your nickname doesn’t have to sound like your given name. It could be a title… or a word that describes you somehow. We could call you Potato, for instance, she quipped, poking affectionately at one of his rolls of puppy fat. Or if you want something a little more dignified, maybe…

Druid’s voice trailed off momentarily as she thought on what pet names might suit her son. Her eyes flicked over the beaver—he hadn’t touched it yet, her talk of names distracting the boy from his breakfast—before drifting absently around the trees which circled them. She thought of a legend she’d once heard from another nomad during her years of traveling.

We could call you Paul Bunyan, after the folk hero. He was supposedly a giant wolf who went around using his great size and strength to help everyone. He was big enough to knock down trees and build dens with them.