Hideaway Strath nothing in comparison to that one minute

Last post from Eiri!

The rumble of Arturo’s smoky timbre is something felt rather than heard by the snowdrop, and its gentle waves are enough to lull her into the soft, easy slumber of the newly born. Just before she drops off fully, she fights against the heavy sensation of impending sleep, burbling and crying fretfully — awake is where papa is, and therefore where Eirlys wants to be! — but eventually the flurry of motion adds to the soporific of her father’s voice and the tiny ball of fluff falls asleep with one last grumble warbling muzzily from her lips.