“Fixing netting,” Hap answered with a frustrated sniffle through its small nostrils. Its large eyes narrowed, it bent over a particularly difficult piece of wiring where only a small knot was necessary. 

Narrow, pink tongue out between its teeth, Hap focused entirely on the knot, then sat back as it took and sighed. Krell wandered into the room licking her muzzle and white teeth, then sat, her dugs full for pups barely visible through the thick, winter fur. She lapped at her inner legs, then settled on her side, groaning in pleasure of being not in demand. 

Hap pursed its lips and frowned at Wilhelm. What thoughts it might have had, however, it kept to itself. 

“You are at the reaches, did you know? There is the great Break just beyond the Light House and despite it being well lit,” the Keeper's tone turned sardonic as it stated what was more than obvious, “at times this or that can fall over the edge. Greatest is a bear, smallest is a bird or a pica.” 

To have some small thing fall to the great Light deep inside of the Break, not even a bear or a troll could make much impact, so such concerns were often worth question to those Keepers who kept the Great Break. Hap did not wait for the interview. Instead, it lifted the netting in hand and shook it out some. “No reason to have them go to waste. Food is hard enough to come by out here. All the villages at the other Reaches have a netting, larger than mine. But I've only a handful of mouths to feed, so no need to keep a greater net than this.” 

It gave a derisive huff, then began again on its task, dividing attention between the netting and the troll on its floor. “What are you doing here?” it asked then, because it seemed Wilhelm was aware enough to have some kind of conversation and despite not caring, Hap was curious in a distant manner. 

That moment, when uncommon chatter was to fill the quiet of the Keeper's home, had a relaxed and common sense to it. For many a decade, the Keeper's world was little but the whistle of wind, the howl of dogs, and its own dual-toned humming when it bored of the silence. Yet with the inclusion of a single soul, needing but not demanding, belonging in the same way Krell belonged, the Western Light House at the edge of the Great Break was filled with warmth and not just light. 

The stars, however, keep their secrets and not a one whispered to the snow as the first flash appeared many day's travel to the lee of Finger Eight, the Jasper Forest. There, in the darkness of eternal starlight, four fires lit and held.