Arrow Lake we're all going on a boat trip

The cave she had found was a shelf within the mountain, cut at a higher elevation rather than being so tethered to the ground. It’d have been used as quarantine for the sick in Rhaesuial, but Aure had ended up confining herself to its dim quarters all the same. At the scent of iron humming on the air, the herbalist promptly balked and retreated to the den where she lay within now.

Home. Never before had she doubted such a word; Diaspora wasn’t it, not after the previous congregation. Home was Verx, with his sea he couldn’t ever keep from — Was that how the color’d gotten into his eyes? Home was their children, too. Without him here, though, she’d felt their little family was so evidently incomplete. Our children need their father. And I need you, ai niron.

At the sound of skythrum, Aurëwen gathered herself up into a sit. A storm, soon to come? Her lashes fluttered as she returned to herself, and so it was she finally noted Isilmë at the mouth of the den. “Man-ie, míriel?” Unbidden, a tender smile graced scarred lips, eyes even morseo, and the silver rose to where her daughter waited. “What is it, jewel of my life?”