When the dark mare continued her lullaby despite my presence, I found that I did not mind in the slightest. After all, I had come without invitation, and it would have been rude to do anything but stand and wait with patience. The tale was not one that I could fully understand, for I had surely not walked the same path as the Weyrleader, but I enjoyed the tune nonetheless.

Soon, the humming came to a stop, and I admittedly felt a part of me yearning to hear more. Idly I wondered if there was more to be told in soothing form of storytelling, but when the Dragonheart spoke, I let the thoughts subside. I was foolish to think that my leader's tales ended there. A gentle smile pulled at my lips when she insisted my presence was welcome, but what she did next took me by surprise. Stepping closer to me, the lady pressed her muzzle against my own, a gesture that I had only known to exist between myself and Bran. For a moment, I surely looked a fool, but before she could fully withdraw I returned the gentle pressure against her muzzle, exhaling softly. This sort of welcoming I accepted, but was simply unused to amongst those of my past. I would need to get used to it.

As she began to speak of her children, my eyes found the pair once again, settling first on the scaly, golden filly, Amaris, and then her silvery sister, Semira. Their names were suitable, for this land was of the moon itself, constantly watched from above by the Goddess herself. The twins were similar in appearance, from the way their scales marked their body to the color of their coats, which were just a few shades off from the others. Each bore markings upon one side of their face, representing the scale color of the other. Overall, they were a sight to behold, beautiful in their differences to the rest I had ever seen in my life. Would they, some day, follow in the hootsteps of their mother and rise to become Weyrleaders?

"They are lucky to have been born in such a land as the World's Edge," I speak with a smile, dark eyes rising to meet the golden iris' of Mirage once again. My words are true, I know, for I hailed from Gassul; a land of constant battle where young foals were taken from their mothers, and thrust into battle at much too young of an age. I was unlucky enough to have been one of those unfortunate souls. But now was not the time to speak of such dark things.

When the lady of the Edge spoke her own question, I could feel my face slip. It was not the face of my children that filled my mind at first, but that of their mother. The topic of the pale draft had always been a sensitive one from the day she had left, especially in the faces of Luken and Laila. I tended to keep my feelings held back for their sake, as well as my own, but this was the first time somebody else had asked me of how they were faring. With a gentle sigh, I spoke the truth, knowing the Dragonheart would see right through any phony attempt at lying. That was not in my nature anyhow.

"... They are not happy with their mother," I began to explain, remembering clearly the expressions of doubt and pain the pair had displayed at the herd meeting, when Tor had finally shown her face after a long absence. "I've not seen her myself for some time, and I do not know where she is now. I try my best to keep them happy, but I fear what Tor's absence is doing to them deep down."