Spring had been a time of...biding, waiting, watching. Spring was a passive time for her, a time for her to make sense of things and to readjust to her new life within the different world she, Wraith and Onias had created. Of course, she had mothered too but she had also given them space to explore themselves and their worlds; she would not hold them back through suffocating them, but she would not neglect them either. They were, their children, given enough love, enough food, enough everything but never too much either. Just enough - like spring rains and winter snow, it was all a balance. Too much, too little, too often, too irregular. Too was a word she had learned to avoid when she could.

The time had come though. The equinox had passed and she had begun to wait for the first full moon of summer, a marker she had felt was simply right for their children. She had searched Iromar and the skies alike, the lands beyond and even the rivers, to find their names and now, with them on her tongue, she could finally offer them to the children. The moon, of course, would be their witness just as it had witnessed every other stage of their lives from creation, to their welcoming and, eventually, their deaths.

She had moved to gather them when the sun had begun to sink beneath the horizon. With quiet words, she ushered them out into the moors, deep shadows their guides as she moved them towards the southern reaches of the pack. There, the land became flatter and vaster as it sloped into the sea - nothing could obscure the moon, its silver light sure to illuminate the vast path of water before them. For Beltane, it was an exciting time. Her gait had a bounce alongside its usual strangeness, her face alive and wild with a familiar buzz as she breathed in the warm summer air. "Children, yes, it is tonight. Ah, we have all waited and now, it is time. The moon watches us, as do those who have passed on and those yet to come," her words trailed into silence as her deadened ear flickered forward. The moors were abuzz with whispers, but there were voices who did not belong there too - voices for her, for them. Mother, father, brother even. She could not hear them so clearly but she could feel them behind she and the children, like pale shadows walking in sync with their own.

It was a quiet affair, no call made for any others. She had done so the day prior, informing Onias of what was to come and urging him to visit when he could so that he might learn his daughter's truest name. For now, it was only the five of them - she, their three and Lucy, ever welcomed. Beltane knew, too, that Lucy's family would be able to witness her there upon the shores and she hoped they would celebrate her name even if she had been bestowed with it before her time with them. But, as the moon began to rise and the water before them began to shimmer with light, it was the first child's name that drew Beltane's attention.

Beltane beckoned her forward, hushed as she moved her mouth, as if trying to find the correct way to speak - she was, after all, testing many names. This daughter was, she thought, connected to life, to the earth itself in some way. She was...a home, home to many souls, many spirits, like a passage into different places. A path, a home. "Ah, yes. Sidhe, Sidhe!" It felt natural for the name to come forth but still, she repeated it several times before she let out a slow, quiet howl to the moon to announce it. Father Samhain, she thought, had given her these words tonight. Sidhe, young as she was, seemed to revel in such a name too, her own howl a chattery thing, more coyote than wolf for the short moment that it lived and then, she and Beltane were hushed once more. Slowly, Beltane lowered her head until their foreheads pressed together and then, Sidhe moved to meet with Lucy, to quietly celebrate.

The second daughter, of course, was Onias', a fact that had become more obvious the older she had become. She had been born frail and sickly but now, parts of her had grown stronger. Whereas Sidhe had been home to many spirits, this child was not but rather, she seemed to be like the land itself; weak but strong, growing but dying, cyclical in nature. Where one part of her grew weak, another grew strong; where one shriveled in winter, blossomed in summer. Beltane felt a shiver across her spine, as if Onias had very well found himself there alongside her - electric, like the moment before a storm. It made her teeth press down but nonetheless, she persisted as she placed her forehead against the second child's. "Erie, you are," though the name was not one of Beltane's mind, and neither of her imagery but rather, a name conjured from the words Onias had spoken, a passing thing, but a link. And that, Beltane thought, was truly Erie - a link from imagery to reality, from land to her siblings and the world beyond. Second born, dead and alive, walker of two worlds. Beltane breathed out slowly, a hissing breath almost before she sent Erie to her siblings.

Then, the final child. Born strong, growing strong. Beltane moved towards her and hesitated for a moment as she observed her in the shimmering silver of the moon. Her deadened ear spasmed, twitched aside with a tch of frustration - an uncontrolled movement, and yet she had surely heard something. Somebody? She could not say. Somebody or something had whispered at her child and Beltane's instincts had insisted she listened and defend - but she did her best to stay put. Hers to name, with Wraith safe within their home, assured that Beltane would find the right names where he had failed. She was, this one, truly of Beltane's blood - of Samhain's, Alouette's, Psyche's and even Thoth's own. With narrowed eyes and after several long moments, Beltane finally lowered her head to meet her daughter's - "Ah, little Changeling, little soul. You are Aos Si, yes." For she remembered well that feeling, the feeling of another moving into the den and finding a home among one of them. This one, she thought, was not the land nor a doorway but rather, a spirit herself.

With that, she moved Aos Si to the others, gathered before them and with a deep breath, she released another howl into the moon's maw, a soothing sound as she breathed their names in the world. It was a simple thing, this ceremony of hers, but they would spend the night beneath the moon; she would take them to the waters, to the moors, to the stones of the crags. They would finally be able to introduce themselves to such places with names, and then when morning came, she would watch once more, ever curious and fascinated to watch them blossom before her.