Swiftcurrent Creek tomorrow’s kings

Cambria’s lips pressed together the instant Etienne held up a paw. He leaned in a little to indicate just how closely he intended to listen. Between his friend’s distracting accent and all the details, he wasn’t entirely sure he followed everything, though he supposed he got the gist of it all.

I’m sorry about Druid, Cambria noted, thinking this must be the other friend he’d mentioned at their meet-cute, and her kids, of course. It’s great that you look in on them. They sound a bit like Ruckus.

The Dragonling fell into a contemplative silence, still processing everything Etienne had told him. It was only as he was going back over the details in his mind that he abruptly realized the connection between Etienne’s tale and his recent encounter with Ezra. His face scrunched before falling slack. Cambria felt sorry for all the victims of this particular melodrama.

That included Etienne. Cambria’s two-toned eyes refocused on the man’s face as he dragged his mind back to the present moment. All coherent thoughts sort of faded as he regarded the other man, admiring all the earthy highlights and low lights that carved out his facial features. Etienne’s face was dry now, though Cambria would never forget seeing it swollen and wet with tears.

He couldn’t resist the impulse to move closer and sling his forelegs around those muscular shoulders. He gave Etienne a quick squeeze, then caught himself and backed away, all within perhaps a few seconds. Cambria realized he probably should’ve asked first before touching, his cheeks heating as his eyes bashfully dropped.

Sorry, I just, he stammered, wanted to give you a hug. Seemed like you could use one.