Arrow Lake And strange thoughts that in no way occurred to anyone

At the sight of those ears, Aurëwen couldn’t stifle the gentle snicker that pranced from her even if she wanted to — which was to say, she did not want to. Her children made her heart feel so full to bursting that there was nothing left in her but abysmal love. She loved that she loved them, that dragostea loved them, and that their night-star creations, their children, smothered them with love in return. Isilmë’s stubbornness was a force to be reckoned with  ( and adored )  but inquisitive Dragomir was an entirely other district of endearing.

With his wide, gleaming, previously-sapphire eyes, the mother wedged her scarred muzzle between dainty paws — and then scuffed one along the spring growth. “Drago, oh, my Drago?” Bony hips and tail tilted in a lazy cradle of playfulness as she scrunched her nose at her son; wriggled and inching towards him, beckoning, attempting to entice him back to her with syrupy words. “I see you, balaur.”