Wow, what happened to that CD?

I'm glad you found them though. Are any of them those you've posted?

As for me, I'm still unpublished. I've got a Cybertronian series I've started that's still a WIP (I say "Cybertronian" because these are set before they mastered the ability). I'm also working on Prade anew and contemplating changes to make it "inspired by" rather than a literal fan fiction so as to not cause Syke any problems because of my version of "rumuah culture".

One thing I'm adding is the relationship between Vala and Lydia which will help to further focus the story on the struggles these two families are going through, and that of Lydia and the wolves in particular. This is the beta version (not sure about the bit where Lydia recollects Artur's wolf) of Mothers which introduces this pair and is nestled in just before The Custodian where Noihe gets her first narration. Vala is narrating:

The path is well worn by three years, ten months and eighteen days of boys coming and going and being boys in general. They can be such creatures of habit. Every twist and turn that once led to something of interest is now memorialized in the track itself. If wolves or scientist-to-be it hardly matters.
I let you have your trail off into the woods to yourself for exactly four months. Then I tried to follow it too and got so very lost. How was I to know that East’s children had trampled down a maze worthy of rumuah in these wilder precincts?
I had believed my little town to be a neat and tidy array of houses along lanes and on cul-de-sacs — I was so wrong.
Instead, the unmarked paths of East always lead to friends. I should make something of that someday. Maybe a wood carving for the mantel? Or a motto for a shoe rack since mud is ever present on these crooked byways of dirt and gravel? Yet despite its limitations I stick to the maze and seldom walk the lanes anymore. Why be boring and functional if you don’t have to be?
I take the fourth path from my right at an intersection of seven tracks. From there it is only ten paces before I pass beneath the once concealing shadows of that hedge where I first saw her bemused smile. Without thinking about it I snap off another twig and drop it there along with all the rest: 1,528 fragments of wood somewhere in the dust — I have really abused this poor hedge! From the hedge it is exactly 172 winding paces before I step out into a grassy, empty lot. Her house is just off to my right.
Once again, I laugh to admit that boys are not the only creatures of habit in this big, wide world of ours. I wonder if Lydia will have the tea on by the time I knock?

“I’m over here.” she called from her garden as I started to knock.

So much for the tea.

I follow the paved path around to the other side of the House of Artur. She is repairing the garden’s wicker fence. Just what she needs to be doing in her condition!

“Again?”
“That same bitch dug her way in last night.” she sighed, “What she wants with these vegetables I’ll never know. There’s nothing in here that would’ve interested me.”
“I thought Gervais caught it last week?”
“He probably let her go inside the shield zone rather than see her torn to shreds by scab birds. She’s not a big dog. He’s on my short list at the moment.”

The fence sags comfortably under my weight as I lean against it. I make a show of tapping my son’s oracle that he had left for me to find against its grassy frame. I will be interested in finding out what she makes of this latest sample from the Omphalos critical-neural web.

“Lydia, I believe you may have misspoken just now. You would have always been interested in a garden like this. Am I right?”
“I.... Thanks. Sometimes it just slips out.”
“What did our Chief of Security do this time?”
“He wimped out!” she laughed, “He apparently spent weeks chasing that dog trying to gain my favor, then he called me up yesterday with some crazy scheme about getting together with Moira, and last night, despite all his efforts, he blew it for the sake of a wolf joke.”
“That does not sound like him.” I agree.
“And to top it off, when I woke up today I found that his ‘great favor’ wasn’t so great after all. Thus the ‘short list.’”
“Maybe you are being too hard on him? I think it is great that he wants to get together with Moira! Even if nothing can come of it, it has to beat being alone.”
“If only it were that simple.”
“How so?”
“Because something can come of it.”

She did not say anything more — only continued with her repairs. So this is a private conversation? I must confess that Lydia has sparked my curiosity.

“I will go make the tea. See you inside?”
“I won’t be long.”

How can something come from an infertile couple? I muse over the possibilities while I prepare the snacks.
She showed up before the pot was ready and started telling me as best she could all the juicy details about the test group that includes her Moira.

“There are no genetic issues with Moira? Custodian really said that?”
“Yes. And it seems as if Custodian wouldn’t mind letting Gervais and the guys back into the fold too.”
“Are you ok with that?”

She paused before sighing.

“What’s there to fuss about?”
“Your grandchildren would take after him.”
“Fuzzy little babies.... Vala, it’s not like I’ve not nursed fuzzy little babies of my own.”
“But that was before you were you. Lydia–”
“I’m not a woman!” she snapped, “I’m a bitch too.”

She seemed subdued as her hands fell to her belly and she rubbed pensively.

“Somehow,” she continued, “I’m just like that mutt that keeps damaging my garden. Or maybe I’m the mutt. How can I look at Gervais and not admit it? That could have been me....”

Custodian, what have you done to your children now?! I pour us more tea while she eats a slice of cheese in silence and calms down.

“It’s just that every now and then I have such a hard time keeping Artur straight: who he is from the wolf I ... knew. His scent hasn’t changed.... At least we both look like someone named Lydia or Artur. But when I hold him and my eyes are closed? My Mother made sure I remember myself the way I am now. Why didn’t she do the same with the way I remember Artur’s wolf?”

I really do not want to have this conversation! I have been dreading it ever since Lydia clued me into this little piece of madness that truly sets the pradeans apart from all other children of the rumuah. It is hard to admit after all this time, but I am not ready to do anything more than hold her hand. I am not used to feeling inadequate!
So I wimp out myself.

“You were able to accept Gervais before he ‘wimped out?’”
“The funny thing is, smells and sounds aside I don’t remember that life all too clearly. The details are all visually fuzzy, especially up close, and it’s funny to remember this wee little nosey of mine somehow sticking out this far!”

She forces a chuckle as she holds her fists in front of her face to indicate how far is far.

“If I cross my eyes– ... If it wasn’t for Moira’s art I probably wouldn’t know what wolves really look like. Or know that they came in ‘colors’ besides shades of light and dark. Vala ... would my grandchildren go back to that fuzzy gray world?”
“Custodian may still hold Gervais and the other guys back.”
“You two have been friends for decades, right? She really loves Gervais. He’s her favorite. Why wouldn’t she let him?”

I hold out my hands and she takes them. Sometimes being inadequate is better than being nothing at all.

--
Stand-up Philosopher

Thanks!

--
Life is too short and too precious to waste by hating another for petty reasons. Let us look past gender, race and religion and all come to the understanding that we are all the same under our skin.
-ToaVeka