Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
A pleasant lull ends when Merida nips him awake and instinctually, her large mate knows exactly what for. “Hmm?” Crevan rumbles, shifting upright to blink away the comforting darkness of their burrow. In the rim of moonlight at their doorstep he can see his fox-wife pacing, the sleek glint of her colorful hide clenched in restless pain. The male shifter feels suddenly alert as both of his tan ears flick ahead, anxiety and mixed elation snapping him coldly from slumber.
It was time.
Together they’d watch the curve of her soft belly grow, delighted when it showed signs of movement and healthy new life. In a thousand ways the wolf had pictured what their child would look like, if it would be shifter or not, (he’d vowed to not care, he’d vowed) and debated on whether it would take more after Merida or himself; now the questions would be answered. Dutifully he rises, moving aside to let his fiery girl slip to the comfort of her nest, and then as if he’d lost sense of what he should be doing, the lupine creature lays down once more.
The Sylvian general remains quiet, unmoving in the time it takes her to perform a miracle. Only when Merida shifts to look does he feel inclined to see also, raising a wide face to peer down at their creation. “A fox!” He thinks, because that’s about as much as he gets a glimpse of before the she-fox is busily cleaning it, already taking claim over the squirming babe. Her wolfish mate laughs, tail thumping against the stone floor of their home in deep pride.
When Merida remembers him again, bright gaze darting to where he stretches out in front of her, Crevan has already shuffled forward on his belly to nose the mesmerizing ball of fur. “Shiye, our son.” He stamps the boy readily, having dreamed of this moment for so long. “Merida …” The wolf groans, choking back a bought of surprising tears, “I’ve never loved something so much as you.”
@[Merida] @[Shiye]