The Day I've Had...

Mojito · Updated 04/30/23:

The festival had been winding down, a storm having put something of a damper on the later few hours and despite his somewhat inflated sense of accomplishment the young man was ready to return home... it was strange to think it, that the Armada had become home for him but it was true, Ashen had never really been a place he could have flourished and now the warlord and his daughter were more families to him than his own cousins had been.

The morning after the storm Mojito had been ready to return to a sort of normalcy, he woke up that morning ready to do a check on the expectant mother, he had no way of knowing that the pups had already been born and so when a call went up for both him and Naiche he couldn't help but feel a small thrill of fear and anticipation go through him. He changed gears, pulling out a small sprig of alfalfa and telling Hoa to remain on standby in the event he needed something more.

By the time the young man got to Asla's den he was struck by the scent of milk, not even a tang of blood reaching him and he slowly began to piece together that the birth was not what he had been called for. Naiche's scent also reached him and Mojito swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He retreated some, settling in to wait out the yellow man, no further urgent calls came for him and so he felt no need to intrude upon the family den. He must have dozed off however as when Mojito found himself awake once more Naiche's scent told him the man had left and the trail was quickly growing stale. Gathering himself up Mojito approached the den, giving a light huff of a greeting around the flower still clamped in his jaws, a warning to the new mother he was there.

Then he pushed his way inside, allowing for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the den before moving too far inside. What he found there completely blew him away. Asla was napping lightly, two tiny bundles huddled at her side. Slowly Mojito approached, light blue gaze dropping to the precious life curled at her stomach and Mojito's breath caught. One of them, slightly larger than his sister was a boy of golden hues, broken by tiny white and black markings, no question who his father was... And next to him was a small little girl, her pelt mostly the same tone as her mother's but with some white and black to break up her coat... particularly of note were the familiar splotches of black that so resembled his own.

Mojito felt his legs grow weak and he dropped into a crouch, his nose so close to the tiny little girl... his little girl. The Alfalfa was mostly forgotten at his paws as he felt a wave of emotion wash over him. "Gods... they're beautiful." He breathed.

Speech

Holy Heck, thanks Kat!

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