Hideaway Strath the teeth of the eye of a storm

As if in protest to her mother’s faithlessness, Eirlys summoned all of her strength to worm closer to the source of warmth that for whatever reason seemed to be getting further and further away. Her tiny turtle flippers paddled furiously as she got her second wind and moved insistently toward Dagfinn, squeaking plaintively all the while. The feeling of his whiskers brushing against her downy fur caused her to still almost instantaneously, her own head tipping upward in a blindly searching manner just before the heavens broke with an outpouring of saliva and mucus. She sat like a sunning sea lion for the space of a few precious seconds, a string of snot clinging to her ear before it fell slowly to the earth, and then her tiny face contorted. For a moment she looked as if she might wail, but instead she gave her uncle her first smile.