Winter was waning but it was still cold outside, and as the sun fell she curled closer to the large pile of platinum fur that warmed her against everything in the world. Her sea green eyes turned from the opening of their den which gave them only the barest view of the trees of Enocra still dusted in snow back to him. She delicately nosed the faded pink scars which covered his shoulder in jagged, broken lines before trailing up to the fur of his cheek, inhaling deeply before sighing contently. This wasn’t the life she might have chosen, living in a hovel in a free land with her children smattered all across their world and no place to call their own, but every evening as she curled around her love she realized it didn’t matter. She was content, happy even as long as she had her moon to warm her side.

She nestled in tighter next to him, her body so much smaller than his own that she could fit so easily between the cradle of his strong legs. Laying her head across his broad shoulders she hummed quietly to herself as she began grooming his long, soft fur simply listening to him breathe. “Tell me a story, my love.” Her words are heavy, rolling like molasses from her tongue but she wanted nothing more than to hear him speak, to feel the rumble of his chest with every word, to close her eyes and let her world shrink to only his voice and nothing else.