---

When Hemlock danced, Lánxuě immediately tried to dance with him, mirroring his moves.

Her little forepaws bounced clumsily against the earth while her hindquarters wiggled behind them, and her tail swept from side to side with enough enthusiasm to nearly upset her balance. He had said her name. It was not all of it, but that did not matter to her. He knew that she was Lán now, just as she knew that he was Hemlock, and this discovery delighted her far more than such a simple thing probably should have.

Hem-lok! she chirped back at him, managing the word with far more confidence than before.

His excitement seemed to make hers grow. Lánxuě did not understand why, nor was she old enough to wonder very deeply about it. At only a month old, feelings were simple things that arrived without explanation. Hunger hurt. Her mother was warm. Her father was safe. Loud noises frightened her until something more interesting came along. Hemlock smiled at her, and because he smiled, Lánxuě found herself smiling back.

When he asked whether she wanted to watch the wedding, her attention wandered toward the distant celebration. There were still so many wolves gathered there that she could hardly make sense of them all. Somewhere among the shifting bodies was her father, and Lánxuě understood in the vague way of very young children that today belonged to Bàba somehow. There were flowers, food, laughter, and more strangers than she had ever seen in her very short life.

She had already seen Bàba, though.

Hemlock was new and he was now her friend.

Her golden eyes returned to him when he offered another possibility.

"Somethin' for Lán and Hemlock?"

Lánxuě's ears lifted immediately in curiosity. Lán... Hem-lok, she repeated slowly.

She looked from herself to him as though putting their names beside one another had revealed something very important. Her tail began wagging again while she worked through the little bit of Common she knew, searching for a word that seemed appropriate. Yes! She yipped as her excitement got ahead of her legs. Lánxuě scrambled to stand too quickly, tangled one tiny paw beneath another, and promptly toppled forward into the grass. Her chest landed with a soft thump while her rump remained pointed rather inelegantly toward the sky.

For a moment, she stayed there. Then her little head lifted. Find! she declared. Whatever Hemlock wanted them to find, she had already decided that she wanted it too.

Lánxuě pushed herself upright again and toddled toward him until her tiny shoulder brushed against one of his forelegs. Standing beside another child only made her own smallness more apparent. Hemlock was young and round himself, but Lánxuě looked almost impossibly delicate beside him, with short little legs and a body that seemed better suited for curling beneath her mother's chin than wandering away from a wedding.

That did not stop her. Littleever could.

She raised her nose and sniffed thoughtfully at the air. Flowers were something she understood. Flowers smelled sweet and grew everywhere, and perhaps there would be another flying flower hiding somewhere nearby. Her eyes searched the grass and bushes with all the solemn concentration she could manage.

Then she saw yellow.

Lánxuě froze.

One tiny paw lifted from the ground, and her golden eyes widened as she stared beneath a nearby bush. She did not know whether what she had spotted was another butterfly, a flower, or merely a yellow leaf caught among the greenery. To her, the distinction hardly mattered.

Hem-lok, she whispered urgently. Her gaze never left the patch of yellow.

Fower.

---