Arrow Lake And strange thoughts that in no way occurred to anyone

Most of her had known that her blackberry remained much too young to keep his tongue coordinated enough to form words, but she’d still wanted to deviate a little bit; try at something, even if Dragomir hadn’t developed to that stage so close and yet so seemingly faraway. Aure supposed that before even that point, though, she’d have to help him figure out how to properly curve his ears and tail... but that would be for another time.

For now, a pleasant and proud flush veiled he neck and cheeks as her son tried, too, just as she had. It was the thought that mattered, right? So she listened to Dragomir babble and sputter away; and though she knew recent, familial tensions did him no good, she couldn’t help but be so distant, and remain as near as she possibly could. Such self-absorption was out of heedless habit; other times, it was for some paltry protection.

But Aurëwen met her son with her own impish simper, and when he began to wobble, she started — and then thought better of it, settled back, and implored once more, ”Fly to me, balaur mea? Do you think you can fly to me?” Whether Dragomir wanted to stumble her way, or careen right for her, his mother would be there to catch him  ( and hold him right to her heart once more. )  She settled on her belly, maw pressed between dainty paws, expectant and observant.