"Yes," he answers, still a little frigid, "Her name is Trindle and she's not old enough to walk yet, but she does happen to be the color of fresh grass."

And she is GORGEOUS, says a father's eyes. And you will AGREE with me or I will GLARE AT YOU till a HOLE APPEARS BETWEEN YOUR EYES.

Liir's been passionate about precious few things. The military. Nor. Trism. His mother's memory.

Now, Trindle.