[open] hear that lonesome whipporwill

[Djinni]

a light came on when you sang that song and i want you to sing it again I’d taken the idea from Brennen, the tracking of my kin, though I will never share that with him. While my eyes do widen at the sheer number of offspring (are women in this age stronger than they were in mine to have borne so many at once?), it takes a short time for me to place the golden boy in front of me as the youngest child of my son’s first daughter. (If I am honest with myself, I had stopped counting the times that son made me a grandmother long ago. Its better to not think of such things, and of the sloe-eyed man who’d started it.) Are you Brennen, the boy asks, unceremoniously ruining my fun. “No,” I tell him crisply. “But I certainly know more about shifting than he does.” As if to prove this, I let the color of Brennen and his too-big wings fall away. Instead of a dark bay, by thing summer-hide is a pale and dusky pink. The darker barring and stripes of dun are remarkably like those of the boy in front of me. “What need to do you and your mother have to control shifters?” I ask him curiously. I am always wary of traps, and have no intention of helping to set one up that might in time be used to capture me. The rings in my ears are symbolic; I broke free of their restraint eons ago and have no desire to ever return. “Are you the one who is cursed?” I ask curiously. “Or is it your mother?” @[elio] DJINNI could i be the one you sing about in all your stories