Porcupine Ridge ouroboros

A golden figure nearby—the Eagle. Muskrat still close. And then—

Nutu, he managed through a vise-tight throat, visibly relaxing as she wriggled into his embrace. It was tight quarters between the two women, but a sensation that couldn't be farther from the tunnels.

Warmth. Safety.

It was everything he had ever hoped to build for himself, and especially for those he loved, and a flood of gratitude suddenly overcame him. Even Muskrat's misunderstanding of his words went without notice; Hex was trembling like a child, lost for words.

Peace. Small trust, the warrioress clarified—but at least a detente with those below. 

Security.

The spirits have delivered me home, he murmured, and allowed himself to fully let down his guard. . .for the first time in a long, long while.