Motherhood agreed with her. Abigail loved nothing quite so much as she loved her children. To be fair, she loved Braylen, but that love was even different than what she shared for Dmitrei and Dragomir. With each passing day her sons grew stronger, born of the tundra, a land that could only create the strongest sort of individual. She was proud of them, proud of the men they were becoming. Whatever they decided to do with their futures, whether it was here on the islands they would stay, whether they would be of the bachelors or have a herd, she would stay proud of them. She encouraged them to explore, most likely a side effect of her own hunger to adventure. Abigail wouldn’t ever dare to hold them back.
While reflecting on her sons, Abigail became aware of a nearby familiar figure, that of Pagan. She felt softness for the buckskin; a sincere respect. He was a good leader, she thought; very diligent, kind, and strong. Still, in spite of how greatly she respected him and how much of a friend she considered the Inlet’s leader, she became aware of how little she knew him. Shame on her, really. Abigail decided it wouldn’t do and nickered softly to draw his attention, smile coming over her mouth as she started walking toward him.
“Hello, Pagan,” she greeted gently as she drew close. “I hope I’m not disturbing you from any great, deep thought.”
|