Sunset Valley seltsam

He melded to her—the warmth of him pressed against her soothing her, if only momentarily, as she took in the familiar scent of the healer. Mahler, in many ways, was home, just as much as her children were. Land did not hold her heart—simply her kith and kin—a lesson only now truly learned and grasped.

“Not far,” she murmured, muzzle pressed to his nape and shoulder, relishing in the comfort he offered. A touch that had incited passion, certainly, but also one that brought a certain safety. “We claimed a small grove just outside the valley… I left my children in charge of it.” She paused, amusement flickering in her chest. “Breeding season… I didn’t want to cramp their style.”

Yet she missed them dearly. When she returned to visit—would she be a grandmother? The thought seemed an odd concept to the woman.

When he pulled back, glittering green eyes searched his own lilac, his question loaded in so many ways. “Define happiness,” she whispered, keeping the downturn of her lips from brandishing the world with any of her disappointment.