Two Eyes Cenote Burrowing

Her words draw him from his reverie—her steps so light prior he hadn’t truly heard her. It was a strange feeling to be so caught off-guard, though it seemed to be something she excelled at when it came to him.

A frown mars her features and he shifts, paws pushing himself to draw from laying to a sit, his eyes sweeping over her in unvoiced concern. He couldn’t tell what she thought of him here—Eset remained unreadable to him—and he found himself giving a light exhale. “I haven’t gotten my permission slip to leave signed just yet,” he noted, aiming for light humor in a tone that was just above a rumbling whisper.

But there was a lingering pause, and then an admission: “I also wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Physically, perhaps. Emotionally, even more so.

Would she have told him if she had born their children?