Swiftcurrent Creek The truth is

“Nah,” he coughed, trying not to laugh because he would suck in more of the fluffy mess that spiraled around them. “She’d be grateful when she realized her biiig husband was taken out by a few tiny fluffballs.”

That was when some really flew in his mouth—initiating a gag reflex.

One dry heave later, Arric grabbed him for a wrestle, and they were on the ground—elbows elbowing in places that hurt, fingers jabbing—two older men that had no business trying to roughhouse anymore.

Finally—exhausted—coughing—and black fur riddled with cattail seeds, Akavir snorted, laying on his back. “You’re just lucky I didn’t pick a bunch and give them to your kids to fuck up your den.”

That, he felt, would have Arlette kicking his ass.

The image of her launching at Pukei was forever seared in his brain, and humbled him greatly in her presence.