Noctisardor Bypass church

Daylight faded, the air cooling to crispness. Druid watched the puppies cavorting near the den’s mouth, working out the energy from their supper. @Heda sat nearby, the two enjoying a companionable silence—well, actually, the twilit air was filled with the noises of playing children.

I’ve been asking everyone about traditions they want to bring to Rivenwood. I realize that we grew up together here but you lived a whole lot of life between those days and these ones. Maybe we could pick something to honor Sweetharbor? Druid said, eyes cutting from the kids to her sister’s ivory face.

sweetharbor was not a name that heda had expected to hear aloud, let alone from druid. she was caught visibly off-guard, jerking as she cleaned a milkmeat dribble from the corner of @Gideon's mouth and smoothed the stubborn hairs on the back of @Ezra's head. the boys twisted and fussed and by the time they scampered off again, she'd regained control of herself.
"i think that's really nice, druid. we —" didn't have enough time together to create traditions "— we didn't really have any. we played in the sea fairly often, and sang sometimes, but nothing really formal."
she looked at the pups in the eveninglight and clung to the scrap of contentment in her chest.

She sensed that she’d touched a sore spot. That didn’t surprise her. Druid chewed on her cheek with her remaining teeth, giving Heda a moment to process. She hoped her sister knew she could talk about if she needed, though Druid would certainly respect it if Heda still wasn’t ready for that.

Her words actually reminded Druid of something Dinah had said several months back: “There wasn’t exactly a whole lot to do on the island growing up…” That’s why she’d become something of a naturalist. Druid wondered if there was some way to pay tribute to that, particularly with Dinah in the wind…

Okay, she said gently. If you think of anything else… I just want to make sure we’re honoring all our backgrounds. She paused, decided against asking about the singing, then changed her mind. What sorts of songs did you sing? I’ve heard you singing to them a few times but if you ever want to belt out any ballads, I would love to hear…

Can be skipped!

Kikimora lay quietly in the Spring grass, thoughtful as she observed @Averie and @Artio's game with curiosity. They chased one another around the clearing, yipping cheerfully and reaching to nip at one another's furs. The littlest of the brood wanted very much to join them, but she had worn herself out and tiredness made her eyelids feel heavy.

The adults talked close by, but Kikimora had no interest in their conversation. She simply glanced in their direction then gazed out at her siblings again as they played, propping her chin atop her mismatched paws.

heda —
the lavender, the seaflowers, the misting of roses below the greenhills den. salt in the morning, psalm in the tidepools, and the voices of her children raised to god.
her voice was hoarse; "i'm sorry, druid, i can't. maybe — in time." managing a weak smile for her sister, heda bent over kikimora, though the girl needed no help.
caracal.

Don’t be sorry, Druid said, offering her sister a reassuring smile. Just know that if and when you feel up to it, you’ll have a willing audience.

Her attention turned to Kikimora before her eyes raised to watch Artio and Averie chasing one another around the small clearing. The other children lay in a heap, watched over by Goldfinch’s goldfinch. Druid wondered how they could sleep through the screeching, though she supposed they’d all gotten rather accustomed to sleeping in a noisome habitat.

Things are good, Druid broke into the companionable silence that had fallen between Heda and herself again, and getting better every day. She paused, laughing lightly through her nose before adding, Should we start rounding them and putting them to bed? What say you, Kiki? Hm?

She'd never realised how irritating her sister's voice was. Kikimora huffed a breath and closed her eyes as Averie yapped her offence at an over-enthusiastic nip by Artio, which seemed to signal the end of her participation in the chase.

A Den Mother, recognising that bed time was fast approaching, regained Kikimora's attention by calling her nickname. She shifted to look toward them, raising her head. The speckled youngster did not voice her agreement, but the parting of her jaws in a wide yawn communicated that she was ready and willing to retire for the night.