Moonspear and everything's still

Eventually, Nashua found the one he was looking for—that being himself. Killdeer gave a broad grin to the boy and closed the gap between them, nuzzling the top of Nashua's head and resisting the urge to squeeze him tight.

How's it going, varmint?

The word slipped past his lips before it came to mind. He paused, his lips parted slightly. Not like it was bad, per se. . .

On the contrary. It felt as if his father was watching over him, and putting words into his mouth.

Just as he'd been Bronco's varmint, so too could Nashua be his.