Sleeping Dragon daylight

Most nights, when not raining, Gavriel sleeps beneath the stars. He keeps a little distance from the whelping den but it is always within view should he turn and look and, if needed, can be there within a matter of seconds. When he sees a small head pop out of the den, he lifts his head and watches the silvery babe make herself comfortable and he waits to see if another may follow behind her. The father gives it a few minutes before he stretches out his legs and picks himself up to trot toward his first born daughter.

“Good morning, strik natshana,” he murmurs when he reaches her, lowering to press his nose to hers with a gentle lick across the top of her head.