He didn't hate Camara Tal. Something told him that she never meant to do what she did. He doubted that she would intentionally risk the lives of everyone on the ship. Despite not trusting her, the Goddess told him that she was there to help him, and that weighted how he felt about her in his mind. He didn't trust her, but he was willing to give her more latitude than he would anyone else, if only to satisfy the Goddess. He wouldn't have her accusing him of rejecting her outright. He would give her the chance to either befriend him or alienate him. The decision was hers to make. He was mad at her, and would be for a while, but there was no hatred there. She had made a mistake, and he could forgive her for that. But he would not forget.

The moons were out. Dommammon, the great white moon, was full, shining its brightness down upon the sea. This far south, so close to the equator, the Skybands were little more than a knife-edge in the sky, and the night seemed darker because of it. The White Moon took up some of that void with its milky light. The Twin Moons, Vala and Duva, were just cresting the horizon, each half full, and the Red Moon, Kava, was descending towards its setpoint, which was little more than a curved sliver. They all had their own cycles of waning and waxing, and were rarely either full or new at the same time. But it did happen. About every five or six months, they would become full or new for a couple of days, either filling the sky with light or descending it into an eerie darkness that was unusual. The moons had a mysterious allure for him, probably something deep within his Were nature that responded to them. It may be why so many myths about Lycanthropes changing only during the fullness of the White Moon were so rampant. It sang to him, sang to his soul, singing a sweet melody that he could neither hear nor sense, yet stirred his soul with a haunting melody of union. It was something the others couldn't understand, it was why he would stand on the deck for hours on end and stare up into the sky, almost every night that Dommammon was full. The song was strongest during the full phase of the moons, strongest with the largest moon, and it sang to him of peace and serenity, of the fullness and perfection of life uncluttered by human whims and wants. The purity of instinct, unfettered by the human taint that infected the Were-kin. Part human, part animal, both yet neither, the light of the White Moon washed away the turmoil that upset his life, made him feel harmony.

At least sometimes. He couldn't hear the song unless he was calm and at peace, but when life made little sense to him, it was there to provide a little comfort, to help him find his path by easing his fears.

Strange. Now that he thought of it, the moons sang to him the same way that Miranda did. How could she have such an effect on him? After all, she was just a Wikuni, a person. What could she have to do with the song of the moons? He blinked and leaned down against the rail, putting his chin on his furred forearms, staring out into the sea. It was fainter from her, but it was there, that same sweet song that lulled him, placated him, made him want to be near her. He could remember it clearly, and it felt the same way as it did when he looked at the moons. He had always wondered at it, why he had such an infatuation with her. He had never associated her with the moons before, but now that he did, it was a perfect match. It was strange. It was unnatural.

He remembered when he thought she was dead, when he touched her and felt the spark of life inside. He had healed her, nearly killing himself in the process. He had touched her soul then, and though he had very vague memory of it, he could remember the blazing purity he had found within her. A power of tremendous magnitude, a power untapped. A power that seemed out of place in a Wikuni, a power of soul that transcended mortal constraints.

Tarrin's ears picked up, and he stood straight up. No! It couldn't be!

"Goddess!" he gasped. "Miranda's not a Wikuni!"

Miranda was an Avatar!

An Avatar, a direct mortal manifestation of the power of a god!

That's right, the Goddess' voice spoke to his mind, filling him with the sweet feeling of her presence and making his soul reach out to her. Miranda is more than she seems. I have told you that before, kitten. I'm a bit disappointed that it took you this long to figure it out.

Tarrin was stunned. He stood there for a moment. "Why didn't she tell me?" he demanded.

Because she doesn't know, the Goddess replied. Miranda is a Wikuni, my kitten. She has parents, and a childhood, and a life. But where her mother is the bearer of her body, Kikkali is the bearer, the mother, of her soul. Kikkali could see where the fates would take Keritanima, so she prepared a special companion for her, a woman of exceptional gifts to complement your sister and provide her with a stabilizing influence. Miranda doesn't have any supernatural powers. She's as frail and fragile as any mortal, and in time, she will grow old and die. Probably without ever knowing just what she is. But the breath of Kikkali is inside her, and it's something that you could sense. Kikkali is one of the gods that control the skies, my kitten. She's one of Shellar's servants. That's why Miranda sings to you, because within her is a fragment of the allure that the moons hold for Were-kin. That Miranda soothed and benefitted you as well as Keritanima was simply a fortunate happenstance.

He was a bit overwhelmed. All that time, he was begging for attention from a goddess!

Miranda is not a goddess, kitten, the Goddess chided. She is mortal, just as mortal as you. Even if Kikkali had not touched her soul, she would have been born. The only thing that makes her different is that she has the mark of the gods on her, a mark that helped her develop just a bit more than those around her. It's why she's so intelligent for someone so young. Had Miranda not been blessed by Kikkali, she would have developed much differently than she did. Don't define her as an Avatar, kitten, because you don't understand its true meaning. Think of her as touched by the gods instead.

"Then what is its true meaning?" he asked.

I don't give answers to questions when you already know the answer, came the cryptic reply.

He swallowed. "Am, am I an Avatar?"

No, she replied. People like you are not Avatars. We are not allowed to interfere with the development of the world, and it would be interference if we placed agents in the world in a position like yours. Everything you have done has been of your own free will, unfettered by a touch from beyond that could have influenced your actions. You, Allia, Keritanima, you are as you are, and you are as you would have been no matter what. Your actions are what defines the world, and we may not interfere with them. We may only try to influence them through wisdom, deception, intimidation, or chicanery.

Tarrin had to laugh. "Chicanery?"

Some gods use that, she admitted. I've had to trick you into doing some things, kitten. You're very stubborn.

"Like what?" he asked curiously.

Oh, no, she laughed in a silvery cascade. I'm not tipping my hand. I may need to use it again if you start drifting off the path.

He'd allow her that. Sometimes he was too stubborn for his own good. Her definition of Miranda eased him a little. If Miranda didn't know what she was, then it seemed to meld a little better to him. He looked at her as someone who wasn't different, only blessed. Miranda was Miranda. That she'd been blessed by one of the Wikuni gods shouldn't matter. Everyone had to have been blessed at some point in their lives, Miranda was different only because she was blessed before she was born. He realized that it wouldn't change things. He wouldn't tell her what he knew, because he wouldn't confuse her. She would always be his friend. He loved her. But at least now he understood why she was so interesting to him.