Arrow Lake and my words are forever, my blanket, my shiver

Save for some far-and-few hours in-between this day and the last, evening found Aurëwen had waddled from her little forage earlier this morning, fed and bathed her pups, and had been sleeping for the other entirety of today. Eyes bleary and gleaming with sleepiness, the poppy seeds she’d plucked from Mahler made her deliberate and dopey; made her heady with slumber and dreamless dreams. Essentially, an airy, warbly yawn answered Ingram’s arrival. It filmed her shuttered eyes in warm tears, and even warmer mother’s breath tousled through the peltry of her mauve-and-cream children. Drawn out in a luxurious stretch, her neck arced crescentlike, throat bared to the boughy heavens.

Aure gazed towards the bursting mouth of her thicket in this manner, scarred brow pressed into the downy earth; tail feathering rather serenely through spring growth. Winter-thin ears quivered, remembering the peal of her name; the evident and virile timbre. All Aure knew was that the voice was male, the figure inked, and it all made perfect sense to her sleep-leaden mind. Enough for that missing and loving to creep through the lethargy. Enough to lilt thickly, coyly, ”Yes, comoara?”  Drago, Isi — they would be fine, grown as they were, should she excuse herself to the thicket’s mouth... and so, she would.  ( After another rolling about, of course. kek )

When she finally rose, ivory pelt a-muss, she did so unsteadily. The silver listed to either direction, which beckoned for a slurring, lisping giggle. ”I, I will be th-thzere in a moment, dearlinnng,” voice cracking in her reassurance, both whiney command and indulging plea. He would wait, she knew it. He would, wouldn’t he?—she’d only just stood up!

Was this how it felt to stand, as a child? Marred lips parted in an unfocused, enraptured ’o’. The tip of a rosied tongue caught between needly teeth, and the mother wavered in place for several heartbeats. The corners of her mouth hinted at an irresistible smile, but resisting was something Aurëwen did well. But her warrior — no, her knight! — had called for her, and as his lady, she should properly answer him.

It began with a paw that kneaded at the evening air; but then, another great, gargantuan yawn wracked her petite body, and she pitched away into a clumsy side-trot — right fore over left, knees in, bum tucked. Another yawn coaxed her head all the way down to dainty paws, and when the plush foliage tickled at her pink nose, she squeaked sneezed with indignation.

After several more attempts of whatever walking was, Aurëwen finally pressed her way from the thicket, ears lolling and folded away, lashes drawn heavily to cheek. Only a pleased hum left her, and she made to nestle against  ( who she believed to be )  Vercingetorix, all foolish smiles and smelling of warmed milk and profound sleep. The marmot went entirely unnoticed.