Stone Circle martröð

Gunnar had taken to sleeping near both Sanja, the new pups, and Bjarna. He felt responsible for them. Perhaps he was one of the little ones father, perhaps all, perhaps none, but he was going to fit the role if he could, as long as he could, because it was the right thing to do and because he wanted too.

He was woken as Bjarna stumbled from the den, with eyes rolling in fear. He followed her at a safe distance and settled to his haunches once they reached the river. He gave her enough of a space so that she didn't feel suffocated and he chuffed gently.

His father's language falling off his lips like stories. Bjarna? Are you alright, little one?