They are your grandparents.

He blinked, his dark lips pulling tight into a thin line as he observed his older doppelganger. So this was one of the uncles that his grandmother had mentioned. But which one—Cernan? Aleister? Had he, like Namid, come across his mother during his travels? He swallowed, a sour taste filling his mouth. What if he was going to tell her where he was? That he had found her son east of the mountain, beneath a canopy of branches. Emerald and mahogany. Better than the horrendous orange in the south. His heart begun to beat a little quicker as panic began to settle in, his cream brows pinched tight as he observed the stranger his uncle.

But the older Vuesain didn’t have anymore questions for the boy. Instead, he seemed ready to leave. Wait. He took a step forward as his uncle spoke—stay safe, kid—his ears falling flat against his dark crown. Sachiel, he corrected quickly as he took another step forward, his dark-tipped tail sweeping behind him. Which uncle are you? It would be nice to put a name to a face, especially if he planned on visiting his grandmother in the Cove. He’d like to tell her that he’d encountered one of his uncles. And, uh… if you see my, uh, mom. Neha. Can y’tell her y’didn’t find me? Please. Now the Vuesain could leave. Perhaps they would bump into each other again in the future—on better terms, Sachiel hoped.