Half a moon

"It's not that you are no longer a caring mother," Lanalana was back in her own web. Semi-symmetrical the shape of the net far from orderly it was a mash of chaos to the uninitiated. From the corner, rather than from its center the Great Spider conversed with Pale.

"Your son has slipped on Grief, mistaking it as a permanent destination. He is young, talented and much loved by so many. But. He is young."

"It's his imagination. Stuck to Grief ... momentarily." Pale was privilege to the greater expanse of Border. Her thoughts weren't looking for assurance. She bantered with Lanalana with her own assurances in tact. "The half-half of the plumping  Moon will remind him of those twilight zones of luminous potential. You have entangled his beak." Pale laughed and accepted or maybe acknowledged how sometimes Storytellers need to be reminded of the pause. The Border Witch continued, "He is Male and there is that predisposition to enjoy the straight lines of plot."

Lanalana crawled from her corner as Wasp danced to free himself from her web. It was futile, he would be breakfast, and Lanalana would remember ... and say thank you. "His sister is very well named, mother. Her smile, could and does for many, distract from her bright and dangling magic. She is a medicine bag. Loose, dimpled and ..."

Pale added this: "Aka is patient."

Mahina rises in the early afternoon during the 'Ole times, Aka sat quietly at the table. There was no need to be anywhere else. She sensed the activity next door, but made no attempt to explore. 'Ole. Nothing. Nothing new just yet. Instead the twin began tapping on her lap. With both hands she kept a simple rhythm. Then simple sounds.

Na na. Accentuating the "ah" in each syllable, the sister  strung a web of open ended messages ...

Her brother heard.
The girl Shine heard.
The wind heard.

The sister strung a web of open ended messages ...

The Moon heard.
The Spider heard.
Their Mother heard.

Na na
Nana nana nana nana ...