The Sunspire well that was a bit of a drive-by.

Liffey frowned, trying to remember what her mother had said exactly about it. It was hard to recall. Finley had been oddly vague when she'd pressed for more details. "I'm not sure. She never really said," she replied, "She always turned kind of odd about it in the end. She might've had to refuse him any milk at all to get him to eat meat. Maybe it had to go a little too far for comfort." She couldn't imagine her mother near starving her older brother, but it did seem like something bad had happened. Finley had always been such an open book, but this particular event seemed to be firmly locked away.

She shook her head, acknowledging that even Wisp had come around without too much trouble. She scanned her mind for a different memory, one to take them away from the edge of the melancholy that always threatened them when they thought of her. She couldn't come up with one related to their kids, but that didn't mean she drew a blank. "D'you remember when we met?" Liffey asked, suddenly feeling a stab of shyness as though she were that yearling again, meeting a handsome boy for the first time, "What went through your mind then? When you first saw me, I mean. What did you think?"