Arrow Lake It becomes perfect when you learn to accept it for what it is

For @Vercingetorix!

He was hidden beneath a fern, breathing hard and fast in the tropical misty air. His eyes, situated either side of his head so he could see an incredible 180 degrees to the front of him, darted around in search of his pursuer. A long, thin tail whipped nervously behind him. He adjusted his posture, flexing his long claws and clutching his short forelegs closer to his chest. A rumbling growl sounded from overhead. He looked up, his breath faltering, and saw the colossal eye of the Tyrannosaurus looking down at him, pupil constricting, jaws slavering—

Dragomir protested this unjust turn in his story with a series of tiny yips, his little black body quailing momentarily. There was nothing for it but to flee. In his mind's eye this was a heroic chase scene across hissing geyser fields and deep prehistoric forests. In the real world, this was Dragomir flailing his limbs around and going nowhere. He turned in a circle instead, wearing a small dent into the soft den floor. He grunted and strained, throwing all his effort into this, but to no avail; the little microraptor that was him in his imagination was eaten anyway, an occurrence signalled in the tangible world by his suddenly growing still and gumming at his arm.

He lay near the mouth of the den and watched them sleep, a lot more than he ever thought he would. The little dark boy, like him. The little pale girl, like Aure. His eyes were rapt with fascination as Dragomir, caught up in some wild dream, kicked and flailed around. And then--all was still. The dream was, apparently, done.

You okay, little man? Verx whispered, barely audible through his ruined throat. He swallowed, a trembling smile coming to his muzzle. It was wild that they were his. He hadn't really known love like this before. He didn't really know whether he'd ever known love at all, until this.

Slowly, gently, he stretched out his neck and touched the boy with his nose, muzzle pressed to the tiny belly. He was so soft. So soft.

The feeling of plush baby fuzz on his tongue was foreign, and he reacted by screwing up his face and snorting with a stallion's vigour. With several uncoordinated movements, the cub managed to remove his arm from his mouth just in time for Vercingetorix to reach out and touch him. Where Aure's nose had been soft and ticklish, Vercingetorix's was broad and chilly.

The babe flinched away, but in the process, reached out the uncalloused pink pads of his paws to wrap them endearingly around his father's square muzzle. For the time being he didn't retreat into the various realities of his mind; he cooed contently, then pulled his head forward as best he could and began to gum sloppily on Vercingetorix's whiskered snout.

And the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day.

No, seriously, Verx nearly exploded at the cuteness of Dragomir reaching up and hugging his nose. It was kinda hard to breathe, but that was the least of his concerns. He was spending valuable bonding time with his son. Even if bonding time meant milk-scented saliva leaking into his nostrils.

Sorry it's not a teat, he murmured, smirking. Afraid there's not really anything exciting there, kiddo. You sure are soft and warm, though. He was, really, like a little heater on his muzzle. He could get used to this.

There were new experiences to be had every day. New in this realm, at least. The vibrations that rumbled through Dragomir's core when Verx spoke to him were reminiscent of the tremble of hovercrafts as they rose from the ground and zipped through the starry space sky. He knew them from another time, another reality that he had visited, but here they did not have the same meaning. Here, he was not soaring above the rocky dunes of Mars. Here, he was a blind and deaf wolf cub formally greeting his father for the first time.

He paused in his gumming, rearing his head shakily back as his lips spread into a soundless infant laugh. The corners curled into something resembling an involuntary smile, and a bubble of saliva popped as he exhaled in a powerful gurgle. Then, like some sort of confounded viper whose sense of direction was beyond repair, he wavered and then brought his gums back down on Verx's nose and began to suckle in earnest on the edge of the man's nostril with a series of grunts.

This milk sure tasted weird.

Verx looked down at the smiling face of his son and felt tears gather in his eyes, spill down the arcs of his cheekbones. Goddamn it. If he had known having kids would be such a cathartic experience, he would have stuck around a hundred lovers ago.

You're a handsome little dude, he whispered, grinning. All the ladies are gonna dig you, man.

And then the warrior burst into a giggle fit as Dragomir began to nibble on his nostril. That tickles! he rasped, trying not to cough or sneeze or do anything else that would frighten the boy. Fuck, that--oops, sorry, uh. . .fuhhhnk, that tickles. Hehehehe--

He blew a small but insistent puff of air through his nose at Drago, ruffling the ebony down that cloaked the boy's fragile face.

He remembered when the ladies dug him last time. He'd been a mere wisp of spirit clinging desperately to his mortal corpse, which had been buried some days past. They were macabre witches seeking a dead man's seed to bring half-dead children into the world, to whom they could impart their demonic arts. He'd watched them dig him up, dig through the clothes he'd been buried in, and...

No, he wasn't going to continue down that path. That reality was a grim one indeed. He swallowed whatever mucus he'd managed to extract from Vercingetorix's nostrils with some disgust. Thankfully, it wasn't going to last very long. His father puffed a short blast at him and Drago reeled as if he'd just taken a stun ray to his kisser. His mouth stretched wide in an indignant yawp, then he struck again, this time finding somewhere on Verx's thickly furred cheek with his gums. Here he attempted to latch on, smearing his sire's face with gooey infant saliva in search of a tit to suckle from.

Meanwhile, a tiny pink paw strayed ever closer to the black warrior's eyeball.

Mmmhmhmhmhmh, he chuckled wordlessly. It was quite a weird sensation. He wondered what it felt like on a teat, and did not envy Aure one bit. Then he caught sight of the tiny paw making a beeline toward his eyeball, and squeezed his lids shut, shaking his head in infinitesimal but insistent denial.

No way, kiddo, Verx said, voice firm. Blackhead already took half my voice; you ain't gonna take half my vision. I won't allow that. It was a joke, but his tone was tinged with sadness. Would Dragomir ever hear what he'd sounded like before? He'd never really know the real Vercingetorix--

Which was probably a good thing, but it still upset him, in a way he couldn't quite explain.

Dragomir paused in his reaching, toes flexing cat-like in mid-air as the whrrwhrrwhrr of Verx's chuckles rumbled through his tiny chest. In the days between his birth and the acquisition of his senses, these tremors through his core would be the best part of living. Milk was lovely, the warmth of his dam's tongue on his back a comfort, and wrestling blind and deaf with his equally incapacitated sibling was great fun, but for Dragomir the vibrations were the most interesting part of his world. It meant connection in a way that delighted him.

So when Vercingetorix began to speak again, Dragomir curled his paws inward and cooed softly, wagging his tiny black tail as if to acknowledge the rasped words in some way.

He couldn't understand him, right? But in a way, it seemed like he did. Verx stared wide-eyed, slack-jawed, as the boy cooed, then his maw burst into a wide smile. My little gona, he whispered in Trig, twisting his head to take the boy into the warm shelter of his scarred neck. My handsome little son.

Vercingetorix often had wondered in the days following the fight why he'd been spared from death's embrace. Now he understood. To not have Drago, Isi. . . He couldn't imagine. They had brought a newfound light into his life, and this was coming from a man who didn't put much stock into cliche bullshit like that. They were simply perfect.

He was shifted and cuddled into the crook of his sire's neck, where he released a content, milk-scented sigh. It would be a while yet before he could really appreciate his father's love, but the babe felt it all the same. It comforted him and slowed his heart rate. He pressed his pugged nose deeper into Verx's fire and let out a huff, then yawned widely. Within moments he was drifting off to sleep, his little muscles slackening as he returned to the prehistoric realm where he was born again as a pterodactyl...