"Nothing." Drogga's grin was enormous. "The bear looked at him. He looked at the bear. And then the bear turned around and walked back into the river."
"That's not how it happened," Varek said. His voice vibrated through Mab's spine.
"That's exactly how it happened. I was there."
"You were hiding behind a rock."
"I was strategically positioned behind a rock." Drogga pointed a chunk of bread at his brother. "There's a difference."
Annie giggled. The sound was so unexpected that Mab turned to look at her. The girl's face was still pale, still drawn with exhaustion, but her eyes had lost some of their haunted quality. She was watching Drogga like he was the most interesting thing she'd ever seen.
"What's your name?" Drogga asked, his attention shifting to Annie.
"Annie."
"Annie." He said it back like he was committing it to memory. "That's a good name. Strong. You know what it means?"
Annie shook her head.
"Means grace." Drogga tore off a piece of bread and handed it to her. "My mother told me once that names shape the people who carry them. So you've got grace in you, Annie. Even if you don't feel it yet."
Annie took the bread. Her chin wobbled, but she didn't cry. She bit into it instead, chewing with fierce concentration.
Drogga turned to Tibbs. "And you? The one who tried to gut my brother with a bread knife?"
"Boning knife," Tibbs said. "And my name's Tibbs."
"Tibbs." Drogga nodded slowly. "Short for something?"
"Just Tibbs."
"Just Tibbs is enough." Drogga reached across the table and clapped Tibbs on the shoulder, a gesture that made the boy flinch and then straighten, like he wasn't sure whether to be alarmed or proud. "A man's name is what he makes it."
Mabel.The name surfaced unbidden, like something rising from deep water. Her mother's name for her.
But Hester had looked at her that first week in the kitchen, a chubby child with too much hair and not enough words, and said,You look more like a Mab to me. And so Mab she became. Mab who scrubbed pots. Mab who hauled water. Mab who took up less space in every way a person could take up less space, including her name.
She hadn't thought of Mabel in years. Hadn't let herself. The name belonged to someone who might have been loved, and that someone had stopped existing the moment she walked through the kitchen door.
Mab felt Varek shift beneath her and she turned her head slightly to see him better.
"What does Varek mean?" she asked.
Varek's hand paused halfway to the platter.
"Enduring," Drogga answered for him. "Our mother named him that because he took three days to be born. She said he was stubborn before he drew his first breath."
Mab felt a rumble in Varek's chest. "She still tells that story," Varek said.
"She tells it to everyone." Drogga leaned back on the bench, stretching his arms wide. "Every new warrior who joins the warband. Every trader who passes through Northwatch. The healer, the smith, the—"
"Drogga."
"—the goats, probably. If they'd stand still long enough."
Annie giggled again. The sound was stronger this time, less startled out of her.
Mab filed the information away. Varek's mother was alive. She told stories about him. She was at Northwatch, or near it, somewhere he expected to see her again.
