Deepwood Weald Ahead by a Century

Ah — here was more familiar territory. Simbelmyne had a few pointed words for Raindrop — perhaps for them both! — and the way that Dutch murmured, "Mere rani," to himself was not quite an admonishment. Her tone crawled up his spine in the most pleasant of ways, and after offering a contrite glance in Raindrop's direction, he followed her to the den with big, stupid heart eyes.

And then, for a moment, he stood locked in the doorway, fascinated by the birth of his — not his first child, exactly. But the first that would be his. Theirs.

He crept closer while she cleaned him, and was finally, a while later, close enough to touch the very tip of his nose to the fat little body that hardly even looked like a wolf.

They were always so small.

"He looks like you," he declared, his voice barely a breath through a wide smile.

But soon enough, it was time once more to get out of then way.