To each new arrival after I have grown bored with looking on the skull I lift my golden gaze with hope that is Aithniel, though she seems to be late and every face that is not her drives my smile into a more serious line of worry.

I should have gone to get her before I came; it’s possible she thinks she may not be invited. Momma has made it clear enough that she doesn’t want my sister around us very often, and surely that rubs off on a person’s confidence to approach large gatherings over time. At least Erebos is here, laying next to me on one of the comfy pallets while I anxiously watch the other near me with silent anticipation that Aithniel is just late and will come in time to hear the story.

I can’t help but notice that most of the children in the Basin at this time are girls; but for the other dark coated prince and I, the other arrivals are all female, and some of them are pretty cute. A very young filly of pure white with crystalline details is sweet and demure in her approach and instantly earns a long, good look from me and a gentle smile of reassurance. I recognize the twins from momma and I’s wandering around the land, the daughters of Arah, but I do not know their names and am excited to catch a whisper of the darker girl’s name – Aschy.

Surely that is not her name, just as Aithniel is not Thistle Sister, but I suppose I can’t be the only one that calls their siblings foolish things.

As they all filter in and settle down on the little mats provided to us, I flick my eyes from one to the other and back out into the valley, searching for the ivory and gold frame of my sister but finding it absent. None of the older kids are here, either, which is unfortunate; momma has told me of Jorogumo and some of the other yearlings around the Basin and I am curious to meet them and learn what they know. All I can gather of this land is that it holds a vast mix of sentiments and not a creature without a horn but for the wildlife and companions that had bonded to them. Even Aithniel has a horn, which makes mother’s insane speeches on how to view her seem stupid to me. If all it takes to be “perfect” is to wear a crown, then Aith is better than perfect, because she can touch the clouds.

All the while Zikar babbles inanely and with much bravado, occasionally drawing a quirky smile to my lips in good humor of his kindness. Momma may be a bit crazy and hard to deal with, but when it comes to naming others for what they are, she is never wrong; he is a good friend to have, especially with lives that could be as dark as the ones here.

As the Haruspex rolls into his full bouncing and the meeting begins, my brows furrow and ears fall, lips tugged into a small frown that my sister has not come in time to hear introductions and surely having lost the mat next to me to the fillies that were urged forward onto them. I didn’t like making Aithniel be alone and the thought that I might have to if she came in late made me feel frustrated and irritable, and so I shuffled it out of my thoughts and took in the words of the mirror keeper.

He wanted our names if he didn’t have them before, a single ear falling on my head as I try to recall a time in which I had been named in front of him. Nothing comes immediately and I’m sure that I’ll have better chances talking to the other children if I go ahead and offer it to him, regardless. "I’m Rikyn," I answer swiftly, looking around me to the others and then back towards the Haruspex.

Finally, the story seems like it is going to begin, opening with a question that leaves me leaning forward in my place to ogle the items on the shoreline. They weren’t the same tone or shape, they didn’t smell similar from this distance at all, and aside from both being unable to speak I can’t think of much else to pair the two together – until an idea rises to me. "They’re both dead," I hazard, "plucked flowers wilt and headless horses don’t breath."