Blackfeather Woods How can one like me love one as filthy as you?

The grin that resided upon her lips seemed to insinuate that she knew what had been said to her, which he was glad for. He’d made it a habit to speak to them in his native tongue as often as possible, and it seemed as if his efforts were paying off. Shadows meshed with light as she nudged herself up against him, and he’d used the closeness to run his muzzle over the top of her head. He wondered for how long he’d be able to do so before they were all too old and disinterested in their parents, but ended up abandoning the thoughts. It didn’t matter how much time he had to spend with them, for he would enjoy every second of it, and then go through the motions of missing it terribly once the time came.

Astrid repeated the word, and so, again, he smiled at her. “Nakullarpuk!” exclaimed the Inuit, though he was careful to not shout. He didn’t wish to wake any of the others, knowing that it was important for them to get plenty of rest. “UKagiallak,” Kove prompted, wishing to know what else she could say. It was often that he spoke to them in the language, so it was interesting, to him, to see what all they might have retained.