Wheeling Gull Isle when i was a child, i caught a fleeting glimpse

Maegi could speak for the both of them; it was curious to Mou that she would specify he was a warrior, which wasn't a lie exactly... But he wasn't a very good one. He turned an ear to the sound of his wife's voice but did not correct her.

Mou thought of the puckered scar along his throat; he rarely focused on the old wound, the scar tissue having smoothed somewhat over time and the fur having come back to a marginally acceptable level there. He thought of his missing eye, plucked by the three dark sisters maliciously. He was a warrior only for surviving it all.

When his counterpart mentioned children he had to bite back a small whine, swallowing it and the painful sentiment it drew from him. He looked away from them both, trying to will away the images of their son and daughter, the sound of their cries for help lodged in his ears, the smell of smoke filling his nose, his lungs --- but otherwise, silence.