Sometimes it's the little things

Getting to spend any time with his beloved twin was always time Saracyn treasured greatly. It made him feel whole, happy—home. Even her teasing remark back about promising to make her his dessert earned a playful yet naughty grin from the dire brute along with a husky chuckle. "It’s most definitely a promise, and maybe even a bit of a threat too," he quipped in reply, taking a playful nip at her cheek as he spoke in low baritones into her white-tipped ear. Their conversation continued into the mundane discussion of pack business, and Avacyn agreed with his assessment of their newish neighbors. Neither option of ignoring them or moving away seemed preferable. "I would sooner die on this island than give it up. Mom spent too long and sacrificed too much to get it for us to just toss it aside," said the crimson brute resolutely. Dramatic, but it got his point across. This was their home.

Moving on from his feast of meats, Sara picked at a few of the roasted vegetables. He wasn’t the biggest fan of veggies, having always turned his nose up at them as a pup, but as an adult he could stomach them enough to pretend to be mature and eat his food. Besides, Avacyn had cooked them a delicious spread and it would be rude to leave anything uneaten because he was a picky eater. "We might want to consider another practice raid at some point to keep our warriors on their toes in case of an incursion from Heiðinn or anyone else," he suggested after a moment of thought. "Perhaps one of our allies will be down for a little war game of sorts."

"Avacyn & Saracyn"