Arrow Lake The terror you feel in quiet moments is not misplaced, just mistimed

Regardless of any orders of resting or re-dressing, the flaxen farseer had hobbled back to the Falls-nestled thicket. Faint wincing stoppered within her throat, muted as her aches went unheeded; what if Dragomir was choking on loam again? What if the skirmish’d went worse? Aure had huffed and thanked the stars that the lurker hadn’t been of more brawn; otherwise, she might not be straggling through the evening for her thicketed children.

Her twin, ivory and impish, loitered about at the entrance, as if he’d known her stubborn manner and had been awaiting. “Dōna mandia! Jurnegon iemnȳ.” Vonn greeted her with a glad gleam, nudged her along, and went on his merry way. So, inside she went; and inside she looked.

The next thing to greet Aure was a vision — Drago, all sapphire and open eyes, Isi grumbling to follow suit  ( or so she thinks ). Tears crested within her own, unbidden, as a tender reverence softened the haggard features of her worn face. Meant to call for Verx, to beckon him to come and see, but left that thought to her brother’s moseying — to fetch him, perhaps?

Instead, Aure, softly staggering, made her way over to her bleary-eyed son and crooned, crescenting to nibble lovingly at the tuft of his brow, “Naneth na- hi. Im am hi.”