"Knawan Ysenna! This is, uh..." The girl leans through the door of the small house, then looks back apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't ask your name."
"You can call me Inric." He follows her into the cluttered front room, which is a space after his own heart. Books line every wall and are piled high on the desk. An older woman is seated in a chair opposite the desk, a large book cradled in her lap.
"I'm Orien," the girl says cheerfully. "This is Knawan Ysenna." She bends down slightly to address her. "I'm going to show him uncle's books later."
"Welcome, Inric," the Knawan says, closing the book. "Please take a seat. Did Orien explain anything to you?"
"No," Inric says, sitting down gingerly in the spindly chair by the desk.
"She and I study the stories of your people."