"Mother...I would like...One," Vor'taalnis points across the table at a large y'ha root.

  Similar to a potato, the y'ha root has a bright yellow skin and reddish-purple flesh inside. Vor'taalnis, despite being born from a race of toothy hunters, is positively in love with the strange delicacy.

  Teresa has always found the yautja's love of fruit, and other forms of produce, to be amusing. Watching fruit pulp become stuck within their sharp teeth is but one highlight in her otherwise boring day. An evolutionary misstep? Maybe. An inherited addiction to a particular vitamin, mineral, or enzyme? More probable. The closest thing Teresa has found, to compare the yautja to, is an Old Earth Baboon. With incisors the size of large kitchen knives, no one would guess that baboons are also great lovers of fruit.

  "Okay, babe. I'll get you one. You want the big one? On the corner of the plate?"

  Teresa points to the y'ha root she is referring to. Vor'taalnis nods enthusiastically and grins. Erilnis, who is nursing on the left side of Teresa's chest, seemingly glares at his older brother. Teresa releases a short chuckle and motions toward Mifbon.

  "Mifbon, would you mind passing Vor'taalnis the y'ha root on the far right side of the plate? I'm afraid to jar Erilnis. He might bite me in retaliation."

  Mifbon stifles a laugh and stabs the desired y'ha root with a metal two-tined implement. Vor'taalnis claps his hands with excitement.

  "Thank you, Mif-on!"

  Mifbon laughs deep in her throat at Vor'taalnis' failed attempt to speak her name.

  "You're welcome, Vor'ti!"

  Teresa looks over at Mifbon in surprise. She forgets her original intent, not to jostle Erilnis, and readjusts the childling so that she can turn in her chair. Erilnis grunts unhappily but finally settles down.

  "I've never heard you call him that before. Does it mean something? I wasn't really thinking when I named Vor'taalnis. I named him after every yautja male I knew and loved...At the time."

  "It means...I am much too old and would like an easier name to say," Mifbon responds with a thin smile.

  Teresa seems to deflate, her shoulders slumping. She glances down at Erilnis, whose gray eyes are riveted to her face, one tiny clawed hand braced beneath her clavicle.

  "Oh. I was hoping to finally have some meaning behind Vor'taalnis' name. Maybe to find out what all of the parts I frankensteined together actually mean. Do they mean anything? In the yautja language?"

  "Of course, they mean something!" Mifbon scoffs. "The first part of his name: 'Vor' ...Derived from 'N-Vorl'...Means 'ready to war'. 'Taal', means a form of 'silent strength'. The last part is more than likely a reference to the color of Mau-Nis' eyes. Gray. I cannot be sure. In some yautja clans, the meanings of words are a little different. And what I know is very limited. I am not a true yautja."

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  "Of course you are a true yautja!" Teresa exclaims belligerently. "You are the daughter of an elder. Even if he does not choose to acknowledge that fact. All of you are the descendants of a mighty race. You should be proud, Mifbon! Only those who have left you here to live a life of undue exile should be ashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of! I love you, Mifbon! You are a great force in my children's lives. And Vor'ti loves you too. You are more of a yautja than you can ever understand. Or believe, I'll bet."

  Mifbon's purplish-yellow eyes become wet with tears. She grips Teresa's right hand in one of hers.

  "Thank you, Teresa. I love you as well. You are like a daughter to me. The daughter I could never have. I love spending time with you and your childlings. It gives me renewed purpose. Something I had lost many cycles of a season ago."

  Carefully peeling Erilnis from her chest, Teresa leans and hugs Mifbon. The older female hybrid returns her embrace. Vor'taalnis watches them with a wide grin.

  "Is Mother happy?" Vor'taalnis inquires with a head tilt.

  "Yes, baby. Mother is happy," Teresa replies.

  "Then...Why Mother cry?"

  Teresa bursts into laughter. There was once a time when N-Vorl had asked her a very similar question. Even then, her answer had been almost the same.

  "Because I don't know how to express my feelings any other way. Oomans are strange like that."

  -

  -

  Yau-tala heads to the river with a basket to collect gilgis, tiny swimming creatures similar to a shrimp. Gilgis scales are useful in topical applications, helping to control flare-ups from various skin conditions. With her supply running thin, Yau-tala has decided it is time to replenish her stock.

  She arrives at the river and wades into the shallow water surrounding its shore. Removing a thin net from her basket, Yau-tala prepares to wait out her prey. Splashing nearby draws her attention upstream. Curiosity makes her place the gilgis net back in the basket and wade closer to the sounds.

  Peeking around a boulder, Yau-tala clamps a hand over her mouth. A childish giggle nearly erupts from her throat. Several meters away, Vildif and the ooman female named Darcy are floating in the water. All Yau-tala can make out of the female is her bare shoulders and shoulder-length black hair.

  The rest of the female's body is obscured by the water and Vildif's slightly muscular form, as he kisses her passionately. The settlement leader's hands make their way up Darcy's back, until they are at the nape of her neck. Achieving that, he uses his hands to bring the young woman's face closer to his.

  Darcy raises her arms out of the water, and wraps them around Vildif's neck. Their nearly matching skin tones makes it almost impossible to tell where Vildif ends and Darcy begins.

  Yau-tala watches for a few moments longer, sisterly gossip simmering at the back of her brain. With a coy smile, she slinks away from the passionate scene of lovemaking. Mother would be so proud. Or would she?

  Only a few short weeks ago, Vildif had been smitten with the female scientist. More than once, he had begged her for a means to woo the doctor. When had Vildif shifted to Darcy? With her darker skin tone, shorter black hair, and dark-brown eyes; Darcy is not quite a spitting image of Teresa. Or their mother. But she is obviously just her brother's type.

  Returning to her task of gilgis hunting, Yau-tala allows herself a soft chuckle.

  A poem

  Scar loved Lex,

  Lex loved Scar.

  They had three minus one children,

  Yau-tala and Vildif, they are.

  Teresa looks like Lex,

  Scar takes notice.

  Vildif must back off,

  Father has made her his focus.

  Darcy is the next best thing,

  Father talked of mother so much and fondly.

  Finding love in isolation is hard,

  In it for the long haul, not a fling.

  Mother said there would be days like this,

  Father told them so.

  Find a woman like mother,

  You can't go wrong.