days past, melted one into another. they were soft, faded, touched by comfort and warmth and simple happiness. how different these were than the days following her first pregnancy; tarnished by fear and hurt and bone-weary sadness. this is right, perfect. four children, each made whole and perfect. names have yet to come, and she can not quite shake the fear that something will give, something will go wrong.
when end she wakes suddenly in the night, she noses first each perfect daughter and son, relief at their gentle slumber expressed with a soft exhale. close by, @Artyom slumbers. the huntress eases her way closer to him, hesitating a moment to ensure their children slumber still. for a moment she is content only to trace the lines of his features. ”I love you, Artyom,” she murmurs, unwilling entirely to wake him, instead settling her muzzle over his nape. it is all she’d wanted; she feels only bliss. and that is almost terrifying. she has never known things to remain unchanged when she finally finds happiness, and she has more to lose than she’s had before.
when end she wakes suddenly in the night, she noses first each perfect daughter and son, relief at their gentle slumber expressed with a soft exhale. close by, @Artyom slumbers. the huntress eases her way closer to him, hesitating a moment to ensure their children slumber still. for a moment she is content only to trace the lines of his features. ”I love you, Artyom,” she murmurs, unwilling entirely to wake him, instead settling her muzzle over his nape. it is all she’d wanted; she feels only bliss. and that is almost terrifying. she has never known things to remain unchanged when she finally finds happiness, and she has more to lose than she’s had before.
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when I reach the tops of the trees - by Dawn - March 24, 2020, 07:02 PM
RE: when I reach the tops of the trees - by Artyom - March 25, 2020, 06:54 AM