While Linsan waits for her mother to come home, she bounces around on the furniture and talks to her father. She announces that she has named a violin her father is making Palisis and learns that the violin is for her father's first wife who got married to her mother's best friend.
> For eight generations, the Sterlig Family crafted some of the most treasured string instruments throughout Kormar. --- _History of Traditional Music_
Linsan bounced on her family's new couch. With a flip of her green skirt, she did a somersault along the cushions before flopping again opposite arm. The couch creaked from the impact but she didn't care. With a grin, she pushed herself over the edge until her head dangled over the blue-and-white patterned rug below.
She peeked up past the back of the couch and into her father's brightly lit workroom. He sat at his customary chair behind a heavy wooden table while peering down at the disassembled parts of his latest work. His lenses reflected the light from the chandelier above him; he always put his glasses up to his forehead whenever he worked on small details.
Linsan took a deep breath, taking in the smells of sawdust and stain. It was a comforting scent, like the flowers inside her mother's pillows and the little bottle of perfume her parents saved for special occasions.
She rolled her body up the arm of the couch and over the back until she was bent over it. One bare foot toyed with the edge of the couch cushion as she watched her father pull out one of his delicate carving tools and hold it over the wooden board on the table.
"Oh, good, I was worried there for a moment," he said with a smile. His eyes never left the wood as he carved out a little curl of red. His fingers flexed for a moment before he cut another curl to match the other. Each one was smaller than the ridge of her fingernail.
From behind her, her mother spoke up. "Why am I yelling at Daddy?"
Linsan spun around. "Mommy!"
She launched herself off the couch, her bare feet hitting the rug before she remembered the imaginary snakes. With a shriek, she stumbled forward. "Snakes!"
Linsan pressed her cheek against her mother's. The scent of her mother's perfume surrounded her in a cloud. She must have picked up food on the way from her latest show. She turned and pointed to an patterns near the middle of the rug. "There are snakes in the rug," she whispered dramatically.
Linsan bounced, her smile growing broader. Her auburn hair fluttered everywhere as she spun around a few times. "We dance! They can't bite us if we keep moving!"
Another kiss. "That's right! Snakes can't bite us if we're dancing." She stood up and took Linsan's hands to pull her into a lively jig to music that no one could hear.
Before long, they were spinning in the living room. Linsan loved when her mother lifted her hand because that meant she got to twirl rapidly. The sweeping arm movements told her she was allowed to spin away knowing her mother would pull her back. She loved each time she could kick off the ground and skim the couch with her toes before being pulled back into her mother's embrace.
There was the brief hum of a fiddle and then a cheery tune filled the room. In the middle of a twirl, Linsan peered over the couch to see that her father had abandoned his work and picked up Katsaril, an old fiddle Linsan had named when she was three.
