Sleeping Dragon governed by sound reason and true religion

It doesn’t take long for him to be overrun with puppies. Freyja shuffles out of the line after feeding and makes her way toward him—at least, he thinks that one is Freyja—and she finds a particular liking to his toe. She gums against his claw and he snorts warm air against her back before another shows up and barges right into him. Not that it hurt, or anything, with a lumpy puppy running into his leg, but he puts his attention on him for a few seconds and licks across his face. From what he’s heard, he’s glad to see the boy wiggling and doing what puppies do (or what Gavriel assumed puppies do, at least) and his other leg free of Freyja’s suckles scoops him in to his chest.

Senseless babbling catches his attention as the smallest of the litter protests, her eyes open a blurry shade of blue. She may have been the last born, but it doesn’t stop her from accomplishing some things first, and while her protests to him being in the way go undetected, he scoops in the little girl as well. Thyri, once she gets what she wants, remains content and passes out against Gyda while the swarm of other puppies overrun him.