Stavanger Bay Among the world

Ooh, nabbing this!

Aesop was pleased to see the borders of his home.  His trip had been long and hard, but ultimately worth it.  The nights of his return trip were spent dissecting and analyzing each moment of his second meeting with Alastor, picking through the conversation with fervid glee.  It was his tendency to fall hard and fall fast, and though Aesop was reticent to call what he was feeling love, it was certainly a cousin to it.  So overwhelming were his affections that, from time to time, he would have to pause in his travels to roll boneless and giddy in the grass, overtaken by his feelings.

His mood had not diminished over the days, so that a smile still graced his lips when he arrived back in the Bay, travel-weary and ragged.  The weather had been kinder to him, allowing him more hours of sleep during the day, so that by the time he arrived home his exhaustion was only cursory.

Still, he was ready to nap, or at least rest his weary legs.  When he came upon Thistle Cloud doing much the same, he barked a friendly greeting and approached.  Already he could see that she was very round, very pregnant.  He hissed sympathetically, trying and failing to imagine how awful pregnancy must be. "Shit," he muttered when he was nearer, "you look full to bursting.  How're you holding up?"