With about a dozen plates spinning at once, I had finally begun to feel as though things were on the right track when it came to my franchise.

But, one of the most important steps still needed taking. I still needed a name. Or, a nickname… if I had my sports team terminology correct.

“There’s no mountains around here,” I said to Proctor.

“Ya got Murphy Mountain,” Dillard said, interjecting himself into any conversation in his vicinity, as was his custom.

“Yes, but that’s a village unto itself, right?” I said.

“I don’t get your meaning.”

“I’m not going to name Moonlight’s baseball team after another village we may well wind up competing against,” I said. “What sense would that make?”

“Fools,” Dillard said. “Makes loads of sense. It’s a mountain.”

“I’m not necessarily interested in naming the franchise after a mountain,” I said. “I only mentioned the mountains in the first place, or lack thereof because I’m trying to come up with ideas on what to name the team.”

“You’re gonna name your base ball a mountain?” Dillard said.

“The team,” I said, with emphasis added. I’m sure I sounded a bit exasperated with Dillard, but he wasn’t the type to pick up on that.

“I like it,” Trevor said. “Making up a name. Like, my mother when she named me. It’s like your baseball team is something you’ve brought into the world, like a child.”

His voice was so deep, and baritone, it added profundity to what he was saying.

“What an interesting way to put it,” I said to the shy giant. “Thanks, Trevor.”

“If not a mountain then,” Trevor said, “what makes for a pleasing name?”

“We talked about this,” I said, glancing at Proctor who appeared deep in thought. “I’ve heard many baseball team names or nicknames in my life. I could take inspiration from those, but I want Moonlight’s franchise to have its own unique identity.”

“I’ve never met another Trevor,” the giant said. “I don’t think I want to. Would be strange, wouldn’t it?”

“Trevor isn’t a common name around here?” I said.

He shook his huge head. “Does that make me one of a kind?” He asked. There was such an innocent sweetness in his tone, I don’t think he’d realized how funny it was that he of all people would ask that question.

“Sure are,” Dillard said. “Ain’t no one your size, is there?”

I could see the comment bothered Trevor a little, and he retreated back within himself. I’ve always been pretty sensitive about noticing that in people, and would often try and soften things said by one party to another as a means to not have anyone feel slighted, or awkward. Would you call that a strong facility for second hand embarrassment? I’d often find myself cringing on someone else’s behalf.

“I think it’s cool to meet someone your height,” I said to Trevor.

He regarded me without speaking, a spot of confusion on his face. “You’re cool to it?” Trevor said. “Does that mean uncertain?”

Right. Medieval times. Er, stone age… or whatever the heck this time period was. ‘Cool’ wasn’t, or wouldn’t be, the same thing to them as it was to me.

“Sorry,” I said, “I meant it’s pleasing. It’s been a blessing getting to know you, truly.”

I could see my words affected the big man when his shoulders lifted, and brightness returned to his eyes.

“It’s been an awful past few days,” Trevor said. “But, I’ve been glad to meet you as well.”

“The Moonlight Trevors then, is it?” Dillard said.

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“Oh gosh no,” I said. “The last thing I’d want him to be is the team mascot.”

“They’re not going to know what-” Proctor was cut off before he got the sentence out.

“This language of yours,” Dillard said. “The team what?”

“Mascot,” I repeated. “It’s a… thing…”

I looked at Proctor with pleading in my eyes. Again, he seemed entertained by watching me explain yet another foreign concept.

Both Trevor and Dillard were rapt. The simplest things had them deeply interested.

“A mascot,” I said, under my breath. “A mascot… let me see. Hmm. Well, it’s a puppet.”

“Oh, I quite like puppets,” Trevor said.

“You would,” said Dillard.

“No,” I stopped myself. “Not a puppet. Sorry. It’s a figure, a creature… it’s a thing that represents the team.”

“Like a crawlie,” Dillard offered.

It caused Trevor to fold his arms. “May we not speak of crawlies, I beg of you?” He said.

“Sorry,” Dillard said. “A thunder lizard then? Or, how about one of the nine dragons?”

“What about bears or wolves?” Trevor said. “Are those mass… scots?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” I said. “Yes, those can be. It depends what the team wants to use as their mascot. And, you’ll have someone dress up as that thing.”

“Dress up like a wolf?” Dillard said, and he said it as though it was the most insane concept he’d ever heard. “Are they mad?”

“No, no,” I said. “It’s meant to be a fun thing. The person will dress in a costume. You know what those are?”

“Like for a play?” Trevor said.

“Yes, good,” I said, embracing my inner elementary school teacher to these two grown men… well, in one case, really grown. “Like a costume for a play, right,” I continued. “And whatever the mascot is, that’s what their costume looks like, and they run around the park, and act out funny scenes, and they dance around, and act silly. They try to get people at the baseball game to laugh.”

“A court jester then,” Dillard said. “Dancing for the King and the Queen.”

Proctor’s wry smile told me he was a little bit impressed. To be honest, so was I.

“Yes,” I said. “You know something? A court jester is a pretty good analogy for a team mascot. Well done, Dillard.”

“Ay, I’ve no idea what you just said, but I accept all praises,” he said.

Trevor was a bit more swift on the uptake. “Does your mascot have to be the same as your team’s name?” He said.

To me, even in asking this question it told me the giant was picking up the whole idea of baseball, and the franchise, etc, pretty quickly, all things considered.

“That’s a great question,” I said to him. “No. The mascot doesn’t have to match the name. So, for instance, we could call Moonlight’s baseball team the Wolves, and the mascot wouldn’t necessarily have to be a person in a wolf costume. It could be just about anything. Chances are it would be a person in a wolf costume, but no, it wouldn’t have to be. See, sometimes team’s have names that don’t really represent a physically tangible thing that exists in the world. Sometimes a team’s name could be about a concept itself. It could represent an idea, or-”

Trevor and Dillard’s eyes appeared swirly.

“Slow down,” Proctor said. “You were doing fine, and then you kind of got off on a tangent.”

“Well, I don’t like wolves,” Dillard said. “Mother told me one snatched her cousin’s baby… once… or, was it twice? Wolves’ll take your baby. You cannot call your base balls that.”

“I wasn’t partial to wolves as a team name anyway,” I said. “I was just using it as an example.”

“What was that you said before?” Trevor asked. “The physically? Did I say that right? Tanj a bull?”

“Physically tangible,” I said. “Yes.”

“What’s that?”

“Something you can touch,” I said.

“You don’t want to be touching no wolf, tell you what,” Dillard said.

“But people name their teams after things they can’t touch?” Trevor said.

“Sometimes they do.”

“Now you’re talking some black magic, son,” Dillard said. “This is when I run away.”

“No, no,” I said. “It’s nothing scary. It’d be like naming your baseball team after… I don’t know… the air.”

Both the ancient men looked at me with scrunched up faces.

“You know, the stuff we breathe?” I said. "You know, in and out, through our lungs?"

“Try again,” Proctor prodded.

“The wind,” I said. “Imagine naming a team after the wind.”

“But I can touch the wind,” Trevor said.

“It’s touching us right now, ain’t it?” Dillard added.

I grumbled, a bit frustrated. “Okay, bad example,” I said. “Try something like gravity. Not that I would ever name my team after the concept of gravity.”

“You mean a serious thing?” Trevor said. “The team name would be about a serious thing?”

“I’m as lost as a goat in chicken season,” Dillard said.

My eyes about popped out of my head. I threw a wayward glance at Proctor.

“Do they not have the concept of gravity here yet?” I said.

He shook his head. “We’re hundreds of years before Newton,” he said. "Maybe even thousands."

“Who’s Newton?” Trevor said.

“He’s the bloke works at the Givers, ain’t he?” Dillard said.

Man oh man. Explaining the game of baseball to this crew was going to be fun.