Duskfire Glacier who told ancient faerie stories to each other.

She would seek to curl against the haunches of the northern woman. Drape a foreleg over her hips, careful of the slight curve to the expecting's side. If she rested her head along the dip of the thigh, it was easier to not look at it. Instead she could look out to the glacier's lands.

Although it was hard to ignore in her mind's eye. How she still could feel the slight raise on Imaq's figure and how she knew.

There was no way around it.

How many do you hope for, Imaq?

Hushed and tinted with the softest bit of longing shame.