Moonsong Glacier And we won't let it in

The addition of Eira to their ranks already seemed like such a blessing; he was pleased when this decision blessed another as well — one that he was unusually fond of, even if he took great pains to squash such emotions.

Dutch knew that he was a good prospect. He was the head of his village, even if both the village and the title were new. He was tall and strong. He was kind and even-tempered. He was charming — he thought this even at times when he was otherwise humble.

Simbelmyne had drawn his attention right from their first meeting. Her beauty was rare, and her features were the sort the grew lovelier the longer one looked upon them. If he let himself, he knew that he would fall hard and fast with her impish smile and her soft, warm voice.

He wanted to. What a relief it would be! What solace!

But that was the problem. Right then, Dutch wanted to be held. He wanted to be cherished. He wanted to be saved, and it would not be fair to ask anyone to do the saving, let alone Simbelmyne. And so the idea of loving her was as exhausting as it was appealing; how would he take care of her? How would he keep her safe? How would he give her the attention she deserved?

He was not sure how much Simbelmyne actually expected or desired from him, but he did his best to be gentle as he made his place in this clear. And when she was caught by the next topic he'd thrown out, he felt he had done his due dilligence.

"I think that we should have a festival," he replied, his tail sweeping gleefully. "We will invite all who will hear of it, near and far. We will come together in the summer, before the days grow short again — to share the songs and dances and stories and legends of each others' people."

His eyes gleamed. He was excited.