Firefly Glen some place we called home

“You won’t,” Cypress said with perhaps more vehemence than was necessary. “Never, Rian. I — I love you guys, too.” Tall ears splayed to the side of Cypress’ head like a mantling raven’s wings, betraying the slight unease he felt when being so open and vulnerable with his emotions. “We have each other. We always will now.” He rolled back onto his stomach and linked his body to Rannoch’s with a thin thread of physical contact — muzzle against muzzle, tail tips briefly entangling — in a protective ring around their older brother. For a moment he could believe he was a child again — they were all children again — and a glimmer of what he’d felt as a boy, that light, innocent, weightlessness of simply being happy sparked in his lantern yellow eyes for the first time in a very long while.