Forsaken would watch as the slave began to stir, a slow, uncurling process. It was almost cute, watching how Squirrel acted, how he changed and shifted. The other was awkwardly positioned, seeming to beg him for forgiveness for not being awake when he first arrived. But was Forsaken mad? No, not by any means. The man would coo softly, taking Squirrel’s ear in his mouth and giving it a gentle nip.
“There there my little slave.” The young man would say in a tone almost gentle. “Be at ease. It won’t do any good if you’re all tensed up.” ‘saken would motion to the mouth of the den. “Come. It will be easier to do this if we are outside.” With that he’d exit the den, sure that the boy would follow him.