Badar is fast, her mind racing from the bridge, to me, and then to Eira in a single moment. I had made a move towards her but had retracted the step forward when she dashed towards her sister. Instead, I pivoted slowly to watch the pair, fascinated for a moment by their display of welcoming to one another. It is not the way I would greet any other, even blood, after all. Still, it is good to see, for I find myself often concerned about Eva’s future. But to know she has sisters such as Eira and Badar makes it a much more comfortable kind of concern.

I keep my distance, giving Eira a silent greeting before I move to investigate the bridge myself. It is as I approach its base that my daughter’s make me aware of a wolf across the water. I glance up to watch him, my tail arching up in instinct for a moment before I allow it to relax ever so slightly – he is, after all, just a child. He is a Diveen wolf by appearance too, a further saving grace for him as I take a moment to register what it is he intends to do. Is he going to try and cross? My brow rises, but it seems my own caution is not mirrored within my daughters. It is bravery, I wonder, as Badar lurches forward towards the tangle of wood, or is it foolishness? Or am I the fool for feeling such caution towards something so benign? Ah, and yet when I hear the groan of stone and wood from beneath the water, I find myself snorting. Benign is not quite the word for it, is it?

There is always a moment in life where a parent must step back and allow their child to take a risk. I had not been wise enough to do for the likes of Ehiyeh and her brothers, but now I know I must do so. Badar and Eira must learn what danger is, to test their own steel. And so, I step back, giving both Eira and Badar a look of warning and encouragement. As for myself, I give myself an inward look: this is not within my control. As much as the knowledge of that makes my blood warm and my skin prickle, I force myself back so that I might watch them better – or rather, watch the boy scramble along the wood on his belly. I cannot refuse the amused smirk at the sight of that. Yet, I still find myself assessing each and every log and branch of the bridge, finding my own path along its course if I must intervene.