Hideaway Strath here for evermore

Here, have some displaced love! :D

Ceallach’s song had yet to come to Lotte, and so she sang him a common lullaby of the Enok Tundra, whisking his masked face free of milk as she curled around him protectively. “Sweet baby,” she crooned, “wee bear.” It was fortunate for Lotte’s children that her grieving process was taking place while they were still too young to see, hear, or understand her fully. A tightness grew in her throat as pressure mounted in her chest, but her eyes were dry as she wrapped all four of her children into a ring formed by the clench of her ribs and the stretch of her neck. She missed Dagfinn and he’d scarcely been gone a day. Part of her privately wished that he would get lost, give up the endeavor, and circle back to her — but she couldn’t muster any of her usual optimism. Not this time. He was the laughter, and although she could — and did — still experience joy without him breathing down her neck, searching for and feeling that joy was a work of effort. “I love you so much,” she whispered in her home-tongue, speaking to her children but talking to her twin.