A name was no small thing. Names were identity, or at least the herald of it in the world, for a name could travel ahead of a person and linger behind them. A name given to a person by their parents signaled the hopes and predictions of those parents, and for one such as Darragh, it was no different, save that it encompassed his hopes for himself. In that way it was even more precious than that which a parent might give, and the offense of denial that much greater.
