Ankyra Sound imma toss my hat in, floss when the track spin

Val’s voice sounded far off. Distant in the way mountains could be, or like an echo along canyon walls. Svalinn was aware of a rushing in his ears: the sound of his blood, the sound of his breaths. He stared as if viewing a wide open field, fixated on all of it and on nothing at the same time.

His fire-brown eyes slid back onto his nephew’s face and remembered with sluggish grace that he had been asked a question.

There is Phaska… Svalinn’s shoulders moved up, then down, as he took a great breath and let it out quietly. She’s named after my mother and Rusalka. Never fails to make me laugh, but she can be ruthless. I pity the wolf who crosses her. He seemed faintly amused at the thought. And Stelmaria. Named for the mountain her mother hails from. She is the quieter of the two, though by no means shy. You’ll always know where you stand with her. A ghost of a smile haunted his lips.

What about you? Any siblings? A mate? Children?