The howl of an old-bones woke Liss from shallow sleep, and she rolled upright, blinking. Were there elders here?

The question was quickly swept away by the far more alarming revelation that ichor-tinted mist now cloaked the moorland, and above, the moon turned red. Liss swiveled an ear, mouth parted into an o. The voice in dreams hadn't said anything about this... and she couldn't remember any lessons from Mam about it, either.

Faith had always been a bit extracurricular for Liss — fun to participate in, easy to draw comfort from, but never taken quite as seriously as her born and bred far-Northern kin. Now she wished she had a holywolf around to interpret the sky. Was father moon hurting? Hunting? Did the faces in the stars speak in voices only priests and gods could hear?

But, Lestan ! He must know, surely! Or if not, one of the other Druids. That was their whole thing, wasn't it? Nature and magic.

Hopping to her feet and shaking off the chill, she cried an answer back to the howl and galloped toward the sound. Eventually she spotted the stark white of the Toisiche's pelt. There was another with her Liss hasn't seen before. Her tail wagged, and she gave a relieved bark, Kirain! Do you see the moon! Why is it red! Is this one of Lestan's god-things? It's not one of my god-things, I don't think! Mam never told me stories about this! It looks kinda cool! That's gotta mean something, right?

Skidding to a halt on damp grass, she gave a half crouch of submission before the two older women, offering a lick in greeting. Hello Grandma, I'm Liss! It's nice to meet you! What a cool way to meet, too, huh?