Chapter 25: To See Our Progress

“It’s been quite some time, Great Father. You ask us to seek our own ambitions, I know you are probably saddened that one of your faithful warriors sought the peace of beauty and a quiet life. But, you work in strange ways, I think I’m beginning to understand you more. You set these goblins in my path, they too follow your words. Did you mean for this to happen? Did you wish for me to help see her ambition realized?

I don’t know. Allow an old man a bit of heresy, I don’t think you intended this. I don’t think you could have foreseen such things. You speak to so few, yet our Beautiful Raven speaks to us so frequently. I think she sent me here, to see that beauty exists where we least expect it. I see the gratitude in their eyes, I hear the way they speak to me, how they made me part of their family. A new beginning is always a tragic yet beautiful thing. To see a new path laid before me, I see you both, vying for my fate. 

Grant us yet another day, Oh Sun and Moon.” 

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.26, Khamere

     That feeling was beginning to become familiar. Like walking through a wall of warm water, plunging face first not knowing if your lungs would fill with air again. The next step through the portal nexus, feeling as if nothing happened at all, the conversation resuming without so much as a pause. “The shipwrights have been at this nonstop. The new welding technique you mentioned works flawlessly, the joinery has withstood every torture test we have put it through.” Alphonse spoke as he paged through the clipboard. 

     Alphonse was the Majordomo of the Cloquet and Son’s company I had asked for. He oversaw the day to day operations of the shipyard, delegating tasks out to the foreman of each station. To say the company had been stunned when I brought the project to them, and with such time constraints set on us, would be the understatement of the century. 

     “What have the shock trials gotten us? Have the plate pieces of the ship hull been completed yet?” Asking him As I turned to see one of the God’s Eyes looking down at us, sitting atop the portal Nexus. The strange robes the elder man wore, swirled in an endless pattern of entwining branches, draped lazily over the archway housing the spell. The caster’s eyes seemed to bore right through the Forgemaster, into their thoughts, their soul. “Why is a God’s Eye here?” I added. 

     “Oh, Netzet? He shows up from time to time over the Nexus. He never says anything, only teleporting from place to place, watching. We’ve started adding a comfortable chair to the various vantage points he likes. The shock trials have been phenomenal, Cloquet reworked that rune structure. It absorbs a fair amount more kinetic energy, though we’ve run into another issue as the metal generates heat as it absorbs force from rounds shot at it.”

     He paged through to a piece of paper at the bottom of his stack of lists. “While the hull’s plating does a wonderful job dissipating the energy, it hasn’t even deformed up to a 200mm shell. It does generate an uncomfortable amount of heat. Cloquet would like you to take a look at the runes and see if it can’t be tweaked to dissipate the energy in a different way.” 

     “I’ll be more than happy to take a look at it.” I responded, as we walked through the ribcage of the ship's superstructure. The ribs arching high over our heads, as dozens of workers welded the joints together. A shower of sparks landing just in front of us, with a distant apology heard from above. “As for the hull plates?”

     “Nearly completed, we had to hire out every last steel manufacturer in Huron for it however. The king was not particularly happy about it, and pulled a few favors to aid his efforts to prepare for this potential” Alphonse gave a polite cough before speaking again, “Political instability on the horizon.” 

     “I knew those plans I had been working on with her would come in handy one day. The amount of progress you all have made in only ten days is astonishing! Has the engine been completed yet?” I asked excitedly. Seeing the frame nearly complete was almost too much. The pride in my choice for Cloquet and Sons to be my builders was more evident by the cocky side eye the Majordomo gave me. I walked up to one of the frames that was in the process of being connected to the Keel. 

     Quickly etching a small rune into the metal with one of my nails, palm down to the metal I saw in my mind's eye the structure of the ship. Searching for any cracks in the metal, the welds, the bolts, anything. I found none, the frame was flawless. The soft glow of the rune faded quickly when the power ceased flowing into it. 

     Turning back around to see Alphonse had watched without comment, adjusting his spectacles, pen ready to write down my words. With a beaming smile, a cackle that got many of the nearby welders attention. “It is wonderful! Not an imperfection to be seen! No warping in the steel, no voids in the welds, nothing! This is amazing!”

     Alphonse jotted down the words, a faint smile on his face. “I’ll pass that onto the foreman, they will be pleased to hear that. Helps keep the morale up as the workers toil away for us. Besides, many of the shipwrights here have a very vested interest in seeing this project go well.”

     We continued down the line, leaving the superstructure behind. “Why is that?” I asked without thinking. I had spotted something moving around the Artillery we had shipped here. The forty or so cannons, in a line along the edge of the ship yard, covered under heavy mesh and tarp. 

     “I would have thought that to be obvious, Forgemaster.” Alphonse’s tone got my attention. Realizing now what project we were working on again, my mind a terribly jumbled thing as of late. “This is being used as the pilot project to fortify the sea borders of the Federation. With the range of these cannons, we can even keep Huron safe from an overland assault.” 

     “My apologies Majordomo,” I said bowing deeply to him, my hair sliding down to cover half my face. A true proper bow from my gnomish parentage. “I forget myself, Galus is not the one in the line of fire.” 

     Alphonse did not expect me to give him an apology at all, let alone one reserved for one of the Elders of Mhuzelt. Quickly regaining himself, he continued. “Think nothing of it, Forgemaster. The workers have been toiling tirelessly to achieve the timeline set for us.” He spoke as a large crane began moving the armored plates into place along the portside of the frame. A proverbial firestorm emanating from its edges as welders began their work immediately. 

     The crane had barely moved by the time the small army of workers were setting themselves against the next edge of the plate. The bright curtain of sparks and slag falling to the cold concrete dry dock. Each impacts a new nova of stars and heat, no notice being taken except for the Forgemaster. Alphonse noted the work being done in his papers, no comment made. 

     “They all look so tired since the last time I was here…” I commented, as I was able to look at a few of them during the conversation.

     “Well, many of them have volunteered their time to continue working on the project. After their shift is over, they only keep working.” He responded. 

     “Why? I thought the plan was to hire many more workers to fulfill the timeline, all the skilled workers being supported by the new recruits. Is there a shortage of workers?” A tinge of worry and anticipation clear in my voice. If we weren’t able to hire enough, we risked over working the help we had. 

     Overworked craftsmen made mistakes. Mistakes could mean so much more should this project fail. I had to institute a mandatory rest period for my own Forgehouse, too many of my artificers creating flawed runes. Too many unpredictable results, one too many casualties. One too many fires that burned down one of the apprentices' dwellings. 

     If that was the case, then we needed to do the same here. I wouldn’t risk the lives of those who helped me, just for my fevered dreams of greatness in the world. Yes, I wanted to create, but not at the lives of those craftsmen that helped me build the bridge from theory to reality. The quick succession of thoughts and contingencies interrupted by Alphonse.  

     “They said they wanted to. Their patriotism is strong, you’ll find that is a common sentiment here in the Kingdom of the Griffon, Forgemaster. Since the war, us citizens are very willing to help with the cause to protect our borders. We told them that if they worked themselves too hard, they would begin failing in their tasks.”

“To which we were shown the hearts of our nation. They said to us that they simply wouldn’t fail. I do not know how it was in Mhuzelt or Glaion for you Forgemaster. But, we lived through the war, and suffered because of it. We will not let that happen again.” Alphonse was on a roll as he eased my worry about the workers. Going on to explain that they had more recruitment than they knew what to do with. 

     He jumped as I set my heavy hand on his shoulder, though I did have to stand on my tiptoes to do so. “I’m glad to hear that everyone has the support they need. You’re right, I don’t know the hardship your country has faced. I can respect your feelings on the matter, I meant no ill will, Majordomo.” 

     “I… I apologize, Forgemaster.” I held up a hand to him, a smile on my face that pushed against my heavy brass goggles. 

     “Tell me, have there been any other issues during the construction of the artillery?” I asked him, trying to change the subject.

     “Well, no. Not as of late, though the Mistwalkers are beginning to become a distraction.” He responded, looking like he wanted to continue about the workforce. 

     “Are we really that close to the Valley of Mists? Tell me, what do they look like? I’ve never personally seen one.” I asked, my mind wandering as usual. I knew that the Mistwalkers were another race somewhat similar to Fairies in the old stories. Supposably they could fly, but I had my doubts. 

     “Well,” He began, hand on his hip while he finally ignored the clipboard “it seems to be a certain group of returning individuals. They are about as tall as I am, wings like dragonflies, or beetle wings.  Pale skinned as they blend into the mist that follows them around. Though they are becoming easier to spot by the workers as they become more comfortable here.” 

     Alphonse said with a gesture to his eyes. “When they are in the mist, their eyes glow slightly red. Very visible in the setting light as shifts change.”

     “I take it that the Mistwalkers being here isn’t the issue, but the fact that they bring that mist with them? How much do they tend to obscure?” I asked, folding my arms. 

     “Exactly so, the mist hangs around unnaturally, causing the workers to sometimes get lost in the shifting inventory. We’ve tried to speak with them before, but they only run off. We haven't had any conflict with them for generations, so I wonder what they are so skittish about.” He commented. 

     “Are they interested in anything in particular? We might be able to speak with them, I do have a friend that may be willing to speak with them on our behalf. Quite the knowledge repertoire in his breadth of unique languages. Do they speak at all around the workers?” I questioned, mentally noting this might be something interesting later on. 

     “Well, let's walk and talk. I can bring you over to the one thing that has captured their attention the most. The workers say they think they heard birds whenever they are around, if that satiates your question at all.” Alphonse told me.

     We rounded a corner to one of the dampening structure’s I built for the shipyard. It was meant to capture excess sound, easing the level of noise on the workers. Though it was only after I had seen Ilgor’s necklace that gave me the idea for it. Gjorn had commented after the trio of goblins left the workshop that she wore a rune of sound for the thing. A brief conversation later, and it gave me the idea for this structure. 

     “Odd” I thought to myself. The rune structure they seemed the most interested in was sound. 

     “They also fly up to the light at the top of the pole and play with the rune of fire.” The Majordomo responded. 

     “They can actually fly?” I asked, I wanted to see them. 

     “Well, yes. They do have wings after all. More than capable.” He stopped speaking, pointing over my shoulder to something behind me. “There is one now, we named that one Fotia. It has a penchant for accidentally breathing a small amount of fire. At least to us, it seems like it is embarrassed about it.” 

     The thing had large beetle-like wings, faintly iridescent in the noon-day sun. Opaque, almost transparent, having a wingspan about as long as it was tall. Its rich coppery hair is a stark contrast to its pale skin, large open crimson colored eyes looking back at us. A delicate, almost feminine face, a look of worry on its countenance. 

     My eyes tracked the Mistwalker as it flew through the air. Its wings barely moved as they beat them slowly. The iridescent scales of the beetle-like wings catching the light of the pole, it turned back to us again. A mist crawling up the wall, looking as if it was afraid. “Shame, I would have liked to talk with it.” I said. 

     A small cough from the Majordomo caught my attention. “The shipments from Huron and the Galus manufactories have been coming in without any issue. Though we could use some additional resources…” 

     My mind wandered as he spoke, “Wings, sound, fire, birdlike language. Similarities and differences.” 

     “Khamere”

     “Huh? Oh I’m sorry, yes. We will get those additional supplies to you. It shouldn’t be any issue.”

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.26 Caleb

     The sweat dripped off my brow despite the cold air. The sound of the charing kiln built by Yvet and Hob, snapping pleasantly into the early morning air. Til and Yvet worked hard at the logs brought in by the others. Debarking went much faster as more of the clan learned how to do it. 

     I guessed that we had enough logs to encircle half the planned area around the village now. The great piles, heaved here by the goblins at Ilgor’s command, sat stoically along the northern edge of the encampment. Still marveling at her optimism into the future, she really was planning on making the family something greater. 

     When she smiled, the rest of the raiders felt her happiness at their hard work. They knew the plan as well as I did, the only part she didn’t want to talk about was Yorm. Though everyone had all but said it at some point or another, she had all the support she needed. If only she would act.

     My idle thoughts ran across the field of my mind like a lazy breeze. She had spoken to me again about her nightmares. She had been telling me and more about how she thinks something is watching her, thinking it might be the Sorcerer. Strange sort, I thought I had heard something from my youth about this. 

     It evaded me however, like a familiar story, details eroded away. Why did what she said about the Sorcerer seem familiar? I was unsure, putting it out of my mind. She did also want me to build something that helped her sleep, or at least something that she could do to do so. She told me after I asked her about it, that she always woke up now with the feeling of something uncoiling itself from her waist. 

     Saying sometimes she saw that woman from her ceremony. That corpse woman she called it, the horror in the form of her people. Often would appear when she would wake in the early morning, only lately she seemed “less dead”. I asked her what she meant by that, she only shook her head, not wanting to talk about it anymore. 

     “Old man!” Yvet called, snapping me out of my thoughts. “We’re done with this pile, let's move onto the next.” I hadn’t realized I stopped, my hands feeling old for the first time in many years. Arching and tired. I was impressed that they had processed the whole pile, charring the ends and all. 

     Getting up with a grunt, I followed them over to the next pile. Noticing Hob with his heavy coat bowed with the backpack he had made with my help. Just coming over the slight rise in the hill before the tree line. He had thought before the snow melted that they should begin trying to get seeds and starters for the gardens they had been planning. 

     I remembered the instructions she gave him. “Get them how you want, though I prefer you deal with the farmers face to face if possible. Ever since that stunt I pulled, people might be willing to work with us a little. We are going to get worked over with price, but I suppose we can push back at a later time.” She sighed, handing him a heavy pouch of coins. 

     “Trade with them, negotiate with them. If they ask you to leave, leave, no questions asked. Remember we are trying to change their opinions of us.” Her words echoed back to so many previous conversations. 

     Hob set the pack down with a heavy thunk. The backpack was an amusing thing on the muscular goblin. The pack being nearly as large as himself, going off that sound it made, probably twice his weight too. Opening one of the barrels just on the inside of the gate, he began dumping potato eyes into the dry container. 

     “Who did you get those from?” I asked, walking over to him. Helping him put the roots away.

     “Young farmer and his wife just on the western edge of the Outerfields. Apparently they heard about the Captain of the Guard letting us go, and gave us a chance. They were surprised that I could speak common, even more so that I was polite. Illy certainly does seem to have a knack for knowing when a hairbrained plan might work.” He said, tipping the rest of the bag into the barrel.

     “What did they want for all that? It’s enough for a small field.” I asked, pressing the lid back into place.

     “More than it was worth, could go down to the market and buy three times as much for the price. Though they really wanted to talk about Illy, what her name was, why she is being so public. They also asked if the raids were going to stop.” He ran his hand through the bag, pulling out twigs and dirt clumps. 

     “Honestly, it was a nice surprise to hear a human talk to me like that. They weren’t scared, told me that the other farmers had heard about me going from farm to farm bartering for seeds. Word is slowly getting around, just like she said it would.” He smiled up at me, holding out a now cold loaf of sweet bread. 

     “How much did that cost you?” I laughed, beard bouncing with my chuckle.

     “About an hour’s worth of chopping wood for the couple. The wife was pregnant, farmer busy with the cattle out in the field after our business. She asked if I could help her with it, and offered me this nice treat for my effort!” He said breaking off a piece for me. 

     “Keep it, you’ve earned it.” Hob shrugged as he wandered over to Til and Yvet, offering them the bread. His own mouth full, trying to talk through it. 

     The three came up to me, cajoling me to follow them to the village. I tried to refuse, still hesitant to go there, unsure of what I would find. I was more hesitant about Yorm than anything else, I didn’t know how he would react to me being there. From everything I’ve ever heard about the Chief, he might not take kindly to a human being among the family.

     But, they wouldn’t hear of it. While I knew Ilgor had accepted me into the clan as blood-kin, I didn’t know if that acceptance extended past her raiders. I was comfortable with them, even the few other goblins that had come to learn from me. But, I was nervous. We descended past the now dry streambed that marked the official border into their territory. 

     I had assumed the word had gotten around that a human was helping the clan, but I didn’t know for certain. “What if my presence is taken badly.” I asked the trio.

     The three turned to me, all with various states of confusion on their faces. Until Hob responded, “Oh, there was an argument about you with Ilgor and the Chief. Not a pretty one, she insisted on having that particular argument in front of the entire family. The Chief naturally, hated the idea that a human would become part of the clan. Though Ilgor eventually won anyway, she really wanted to show the clan that we had allies.”

     We ducked under a thick bough of branches, dry moss hanging from them like curtains. “You will be accepted, maybe treated like a curiosity. But, our Mother has spoken, our Father agreed eventually. You needn’t worry Caleb.” Hob finished. 

     While it was nice to hear Ilgor fought for me, it didn’t cleanse me of all my doubt. The forest gave way to gravel as we descended down toward the cave. The soft noise of the waves racking against the shore, eased my nerves at least a little. Seeing the goblins down on the shore turn to our group, pointing up at us. My nervous heartbeat grew heavy in my ears. 

     I thought back to the conversation I had so long ago with Ilgor as my boots sunk into the soft sand. “Ilgor, my friend, I would like to see your people grow, in any way I know how. You have been kind to me these last few weeks, you have broken the monotony. I know you don't talk of your culture much, but I do think you at least would benefit from the knowledge. Whether it is teaching you sewing and tailoring, or helping your clan with protection.” 

     I remember the feeling she gave me, the genuineness of her reaction. So why was I nervous to be here? She said I was accepted, that I wouldn’t be harmed so long as she lived. So why? Was it the lifetime of hearing the horrible stories about them? The notion that this was still a risk for me? I was unsure. 

     Cori exited a cave further along, looking around at the commotion on the shore. Finally spotting our little group, face split into a wide smile. Walking over to us, a few of the other family followed along with her. Clearly Ilgor and the others teaching common to the family was going slowly, as they spoke to her in their own language. 

     It still only sounded like birdsong to me, but it at least didn’t seem hostile. She raised a hand to me, speaking to another woman she was smiling at.  The unknown woman smiled back at me with a graciousness I wasn’t expecting. “Caleb! We weren’t expecting to see you here, a welcome surprise.”

     “What are they asking about?” My nervousness must have come through in my voice, she chuckled. 

     “You know, they spotted you four, and came running to tell Ilgor and Kari you were here. They did recognize you right away, only asking what your name was again, what you have been doing. It’s not often three of our raiders come back with a human in tow.” She said, though quickly amending, “Well, ever really.”

     Hob asked Cori in common, I felt like it was for my benefit. “Where is Illy anyway? I think she would like to see Caleb here.” 

     “She’s reading to the kids. Ghet has been enraptured in the history she is reading about. More city stuff, but it keeps everyone busy at least. Besides, Hob, you can hand that bottle over you're hiding in that bag of yours.” Cori answered with a cocky grin.

     “How did you…” He huffed, “We’re sharing this.” He said, pulling a bottle of stiff whiskey out of his bag. Her eyes lit up at the sight of it, nodding her head. The group walked toward one of the caves, the other few goblins following along. Still trepidation laden steps, I walked with them. 

     A faint thought in the back of my mind, “This is my family.”.

     The thought seemingly came out of nowhere. A shock to my mind, they always talk about each other like they really are family. Now, am I one of them? The cave mouth surrounding us was like a gaping maw, though it felt more like a welcoming arm. The strange feeling in my mind still permeated as I saw Ilgor sitting on a soft cushion we had made together. Holding a book in her hand.

     Looking up seeing our group, she gifted us with a smile I hadn’t seen since my wife passed. With a comfort I hadn’t experienced in so long, I think I was beginning to see why her title as the Priestess was Mother. My worry eased from my mind as easily as a breath of fresh air. My family. 

     “Children, this is our brother, Celeb. Say hello!” She said, returning to her book. A small chorus of shirl hellos in common and that goblin language greeted me, though they quickly returned their attention back to Ilgor. I was now noticing the cave a bit more. How everyone seems to be sitting on something soft, each of the kids had their own thick padded mat. The various goblins looking over at me, working on something. Many worked on blankets from scraps of cloth, weaving baskets, preparing food in the hearths carved out of the walls. 

     The smell of unleavened bread, cooking meat, and thick spices filled the air. The heavy curtains that covered the mouth of the cave, decorated in lacy patterns of paints and dyes. It felt like a home, Ilgor reading, clearly amplifying her voice just a little, backlit by the pleasant chatter of the rest of the clan. 

     “The Glaion tradition in winemaking stemmed far back into antiquity. Where Philip Berthelot originally started his vineyards to the north of the lake. They would spend the next few centuries developing the fine Merlot and Cabernet” While she butchered the names of the grapes, Hob pulled on my wrist. Directing me toward a small table, where the others had sat down. Ghet plopping a large stool down for me, though I felt like a giant compared to the goblins. 

     A crackling fire glowed pleasantly behind us, a heavy iron pot bubbling softly. The elder goblin, humming softly to himself while stirring. The hearty smell of spices and cream wafting in our direction, being back lit baking wheat. The entire cave filled with life and activity, felt nothing like the stories I had believed. A juxtaposition from the mind to reality, made me rethink how I should be. Perhaps I should have heeded my own words from all that time ago.

     Sitting down, I still towered a full head and shoulders above them. My frame taking up room for three, Hob handed me a cool glass of some strong smelling spirit. The group toasted my first appearance in the clan. The story Ilgor was telling still slightly grabbed my attention, though I recognized she was doing this for my benefit. I knew the rest of the clan wouldn’t be controlling their power like she was. So being pulled in only a single direction was comforting. 

     “Lucas had begun a direct competition with the vineyards of Port De Renard, though he faced an uphill battle with them. He was able to establish himself in Glaion as a premiere winemaker.” 

     “Tell me Yvet” I asked, forcing my attention to focus on the group. He paused mid drink to look at me, brow raised. “Have you made any progress with her?”

     The group burst into laughter, Hob smacking Yvet on the back as he went red faced. “I’ve been working on it.” He said sheepishly. 

     “Yeah you gave her a pretty stone, and didn’t have the stones to tell her how you feel” Hob said, still chuckling as Cori patted his hand. 

     “It all takes time, she’s a busy woman these days.” Cori said, trying to make Yvet feel a little less embarrassed about it. While I sat covering my mouth with the glass, trying to hide my own grin. 

     “You are just not going to let that go are you, Hob?” Yvet retorted, face reddening as the group continued to chuckle at his expense.

     “Can’t help it bud, you’ve had so many opportunities, yet here you are!”

     A few of the other goblins walked up to me, speaking in shaky broken common. Mixing in their own language to fill in the gaps. I was starting to recognize some of it from being around Ilgor and her raiders so much, but Cori and Hob translated most of it for me. Spending the rest of my day speaking with the clan. To my surprise, I noticed as the hours went by, I was beginning to feel like this was a true home. 

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.27, In the early morning light, Ilgor

     The coughing woke me up, the warm fire leaving my heavy blanket feeling blissful. The sleep still in my eyes, that feeling of something slipping from my waist again only barely getting my attention. Rubbing my eyes, slowly adjusting to the dim cave, the red coals in the hearths a pleasant light to the room. The vast majority of the family slept soundly. 

     I turned to my side, seeing that woman sitting next to me, a sad smile on her face. My eyes went wide, I blinked and she was gone. She looked pale now, her rotting flesh gone, though she looked sick to me more than dead. Somewhere in my mind, I felt sad that she wasn’t still next to me. 

     “That's odd, I haven’t felt that before.” I thought to myself, sitting up. The warm blanket slipped away from my shoulders, despite the chill air, I stretched. My back popping nicely, a satisfied grin on my face. 

     The coughing got my attention now. Getting up without a second thought, I grabbed a pitcher of warm water next to the hearth, and headed over to Mother. As her form materialized in the gloom, only her silhouette was visible to me from the dying fires. Her breath was ragged.

     I smiled at her, speaking in a low voice, trying not to wake the others. Placing my hand over her heart, easing the pain in her lungs. “It was a nice day, Mother. Caleb came and paid us a visit.” 

     In my mind, I could see the sickness had spread even more. “The family was very welcoming, it was adorable to see him slowly get more comfortable with the family as they came up to him. Yorm never even showed his face, I don’t know where he was all day, but it was nice not to have that tension around while Caleb eased his nerves.” 

     Her breathing cleared, her frown evaporated away into a peaceful expression as she was able to breathe easier now. “I didn’t want to disturb you by bringing him to meet you yesterday. You were finally sleeping soundly again. Maybe we can get him to stop by soon, I’d love for him to meet you properly Mother.”

     I felt her fall deeper into her dreams, pulling the magic away from her. She smiled at me in her sleep. “It was a nice day.” I said to her, sitting down beside the cot she rested in, draping another blanket over her. Slowly working a different magic in her, trying to rid the sickness from the lungs. I kept talking to her into the dim morning light. The sun still below the horizon, the skies slowly brightening. I couldn’t tell if she could hear me, but I wanted to pretend she could as she turned toward me in her sleep, ears twitching at my voice.