Neverwinter Forest and — it was winter

Skipping Reed with permission!

There was something sad and wistful in Eirlys’ smile, but she drew a slow, deep breath and set it aside. In a way, Hemlock’s pining helped the snowdrop cope in a way that she didn’t allow herself to do — as if she grieved vicariously through the Kali woman. “I like Mallaidh’s song,” she said softly, smiling up at Hemlock without a trace of bitterness. She wasn’t feeling bitter today, though sometimes it did sneak up on her — mostly because she and Ceallach didn’t have songs of their own.

“Never and never, my girl riding far and near
in the land of the hearthstone tales, and spelled asleep…”

“You should give Reed and Droman songs, mama,” Eirlys offered quietly, shyly. “Äiti would have liked them to have songs — or stories, or second-names.” She realized then that maybe she and Ceallach did have something from their mother — he had his stories of Mathan, a great hero, and she had her stories of Dagfinn. She didn’t really remember her Uncle Dagfinn; he’d left for the Enok Tundra before the snowbears had been old enough to really have their memories set in stone. Still, Lotte had talked about him exhaustively, and Eirlys believed she’d know him if she saw him: a dark wolf with wintry blue eyes and a dusty cream star upon his chest.

Reed was at a somewhat self-centered stage in her life — whether it would be permanent or not was anybody’s guess, but Eirlys decided to cater to her pikkusisko nonetheless. “It’s not one of äiti’s stories,” she said, looking fondly at the little girl. “This story is just for you, Reed, so you can change however you want, whenever you wish.” This was something Lotte had done often enough, encouraging her children to choose settings, characters, and conflicts as she effortlessly wove them together. It wasn’t effortless for Eirlys, but she did her best to encourage Reed to choose her own adventure and make her own choices. It was, quite literally, all about her.