Bearclaw Valley If Satan had a hockey team then I'd be the goalie

Lucas' eyes, a soft cornflower blue for now, blinked owlishly as he slowly turned his head to survey his new setting. There wasn't much to see. Shadows played softly on the den walls, but nothing was clear. His world existed only in smudges. A small part of his heart wanted more, but most of him was happy—overwhelmingly so—with the world exactly as it was.

He didn't think he could get any more excited, but Laurel's face loomed into view and his bladder unclenched as another wave of excitement dizzied him. It wasn't the sight of her so much as the scent that alerted Lucas, but the sight brought it to a whole new level. His tail swung across the den floor, kicking up dust and debris as he scrambled on his belly to reach the sexy grey-brown smudge that was his mother's nose with a flapping tongue ready for kisses.