Dragoncrest Cliffs Spindrift

His words soothed her, though more tears sprang to her eyes. When he spoke of the day the pups had first opened their eyes, Meerkat crooked a paw to press against her own eyes in turn. She drew in a wet, sniffly breath and smiled tremulously.

For a while, she didn’t trust herself to speak. But as Meerkat sat there, trying to steady her breathing, a realization slowly stole over her. Before his return, she had come to terms with Njord’s indefinite absence from her life. And not once had she turned her mind toward moving on to build a future with anyone else.

Now that he was back, Meerkat could look forward again: look forward to another litter in the spring, perhaps. She sucked in a breath, which caught in her throat, her chest pinching with a strange combination of fear and hope. Could she do this all over again?

Yes, she thought fiercely, I want to make more babies with this man. She had nearly lost him and any chance at more progeny. But now they could plan to grow their family more come springtime. Perhaps Meerkat could let Mercy go if she could clutch at the hope for more babes to raise in the new year.

Not that we can ever replace Mercy, or any of our children, Meerkat finally found her voice, but it just occurred to me that we can—we will—have more children next year, and the year after, and the year after that… Now her eyes sparkled as they met Njord’s. Maybe we could call one after your da.