Kieran and Tyrel waited in a meadow outside Galimont, where they could drink in as much as possible of Talir's light while they had the chance, knowing that in a very few days there'd be little available, and watch for Sanur's rising.

“You're fretting,” Kieran said mildly.

“I'm worried about Mirren. She should never have been pulled into this.”

“Nor should you. Had we not crossed paths, the ghost lord of Banvard would surely have approved of you, and you would by now likely be Chief of Dunnval.”

“And I'd be miserable and still doing things I knew I shouldn't be doing and giving orders to other people to do things I knew we shouldn't be doing. That's different. Mirren has a life here. She used to have a life here, anyway.”

“Yes? And you believe Mirren happy in Galimont?”

Only an idiot would. But it had, nonetheless, been her home and her community, and he knew she loved it deeply despite its flaws. He was sure he'd never loved Dunnval like that. Had been determined to do his best by it regardless of personal cost, but that had been duty, not love. “I know, you think this is another lucky chance.”

“I think that there is not so much that is entirely random in the world, and not so much that cannot turn out well.”

Sanur, brilliant and full, edged over the hilltops to spill her radiance across the world.

The strengthening light collected in the meadow, coalesced into two separate pools, each of which contracted and condensed down into a human outline.

The intensity of the light faded, leaving both Madoc and Mirren standing in the meadow, both naked—but where Madoc was simply stretching towards Sanur, absorbing the strength in the light, Mirren looked confused and lost.

Tyrel scooped up the cloak he'd woven and scrambled to his feet. “Mirren, it is all right. Coming back is a shock the first time.”

“Who?” Madoc spun around, puzzled. The leather he'd been wearing lately had, of course, been left behind at the scene of his death, but then, being naked between returning and orienting sufficiently to weave clothes wasn't unusual. “Oh. Have we met?”

“This is Mirren,” Kieran said. “The situation became complicated.”

“Obviously. Wait. You showed up with Tyrel. I think. I had just been hit on the head so I might be wrong.”

“You are not,” Tyrel told him, while draping the cloak around Mirren's shoulders.

Mirren wrapped her arms around herself tightly. “That was... I was with Kaveri and there were dogs,” she shuddered, “and then it was all just light.”

“The dogs were not part of the plan,” Tyrel said wryly. That wasn't a death he'd wish on anyone—well, almost anyone—no matter how lethally fast and accurate Kieran could be, and he wished very strongly it hadn't been the only thing they'd been able to devise on the spot. “We had to improvise. Kieran killed a deer. We left that for the dogs. They saw the dogs with bones the next morning. They saw your clothing torn and bloodied. They did not look closely. They suspected nothing.”

“Kaveri is with Lirit still,” Kieran said. “Your father and uncle and Ezkurra believe you to have gone into hiding because of a threat to your life. You will feel less disoriented in a moment. It will, in time, feel like waking from a deep sleep, no more.”

“Some of us have not reached that point,” Madoc said wryly, stepping into a pair of extremely simple moon-woven trousers and tying them at the sides. “And still find it hard. But it is never harder than the first time.”

Mirren blinked, focusing on him properly, and her eyes widened, then narrowed. “I saw you. You were the one that was...” She trailed off, looking for the right word.

“It was an act,” Tyrel said. “To get Kaveri kidnapped. We needed to see how. Madoc is my brother.”

“Like the rest of us, Madoc has been pretending,” Kieran said. “He has been trying to learn what he can from within. Before news, there is another thing more important.”

“Oh? What?” Mirren asked. “Because I know I'd really like to know what's going on.”

“We will tell you everything,” Tyrel promised.

“Right now,” Kieran said, “there is something that will make you feel much better. Drink the moonlight.”

“Drink... what...? It's light,” Mirren said.

“Except to us,” Madoc said. “It can be like water to us.” He cupped a hand to demonstrate—light pooled in it, and he raised it to his lips. “When Sanur is bright you need nothing else. Not even during the day.”

Doubtfully, Mirren cupped her hands together, and watched in amazement as the greengold light gathered within them. She raised them and took a tentative sip, and her eyes closed, a smile replacing much of the nervousness.

“Look at Sanur,” Kieran said softly. “She is your mother. She will not make choices for you. She will not stop you from being hurt. But she will be there always to give you strength and make any hurting end and give you a new chance. She will be there always to love you.”

Her motions slow and dreamy, Mirren obeyed.

And went very still.

Tyrel grinned and got comfortable again on the grass near Kieran.

Madoc stretched lazily and turned his own gaze to Sanur. His outline wavered, melted back into moonlight; the light gathered itself into a different form, faded again, leaving a long-legged bobcat with glowing greengold eyes. He pounced on a stray blowing leaf, then settled into grooming himself, the light dancing over his short dense tawny spotted fur with every motion, making it shimmer.

After so long with limited contact with his brother, the chance to play was irresistible. Only in moonspun clothing, Tyrel untied his belt and changed to fox-form to pounce on Madoc. The bobcat massed easily half again what he did, but so what? Madoc swatted playfully at him, and it turned into a rough-and-tumble wrestling match with any minor damage healing immediately.

“Oh,” Mirren said softly, sometime later, then, startled, “Oh! How long have I been standing here?”

Tyrel wriggled free from Madoc and changed back to human, since he was the one Mirren knew best. Madoc sat down to wait, tufted ears swivelling to track everything in the area but greengold gaze fixed on Mirren.

“We all do it,” Tyrel assured her, still sitting on the grass next to Madoc. “One thing more.”

“Yes?”

“Look at Sanur and ask her to change you.”

Mirren raised her eyes to Sanur again, and Tyrel heard her murmur, “Please?”

Sanur obliged.

Madoc padded over to pull the pale yellow cloak out of the way and sniff inquisitively at the tabby-striped cat, no more than a third of his size, who stood there now in Sanur's light.

“A tame cat?” Tyrel asked Kieran curiously. Fox, bobcat, and raccoon were all wild; it hadn't occurred to him the moons might choose anything domesticated. Not that he had the faintest idea what the word for “domesticated” was in Mirren's language, since it hadn't come up.

Slowly, Kieran shook his head. “One of their ancestors, I would say. They live in the wilderness across a vast range, and along its edges are further small cats that have changed to meet the conditions there. They are larger here than further south, and their markings bolder. I think Mirren will be even better than you at stealth in the shadows. Frightening thought, that.”

Madoc coaxed Mirren, one tentative step at a time, into motion. After a moment, Mirren paused to stretch, and Madoc positioned himself where she could see him, demonstrated the thorough stretch a cat could do that made even Tyrel's fox bones feel strained when he tried to imitate it.