you touch the bump I punch your throat

Aresenn's amber eyes bored into Absinth's, the sharp wind howling between them faded to a whisper as he considered her words. The corners of his mouth twitched, pulling into what could almost pass for a small smile. "You're right about that." He spoke, the words heavy in the chilling air but there was an unmistakable lightness to his tone. Heaving a sigh, he turned away from her and tilted his head back towards the grey sky. His gaze traversed across the jagged cliffs, the fluorescent icicles glinting like deadly jewels under the high sun.

"Misfits." He echoed, rolling the words around in his mouth as if testing their taste. "That they certainly will be," he continued, his voice ringing out into the open air, bouncing off the cliffs around them. It was a humbling thought, one that tugged at the edges of his guarded heart. Pups of his own; little misfit warriors shaped by him and Absinth. But oh gods, how was he going to be a father? He couldn’t help compare himself to his own father … to his own father’s non-existence. His mother’s absence from birth. What did direction even look like? What was it going to be like being a dad? Could he do it?

Blinking away the inner spiraling thoughts, he turned back to Absinth, more at ease than before. Her belly, small but firm with their unborn pups, radiated warmth that cut through the cold winter air. Slowly, he advanced towards her until he was close enough to touch her, his amber eyes locked onto hers momentarily before they fell from her eyes down to the litter she was carrying, then back up again.

Regarding her with a tired smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, he chuckled, a sound as deep and resonant as the falling ice cascades echoing around them. "Born winners, huh?" He repeated her words, finding amusement in her confidence. His gaze lowered to her belly once more, his rough paw gently brushing against it as he contemplated promise of their future held within. His expression softened and he grumbled out a hushed affirmation. All before a sudden realization came to mind. “What am I going to do with more of you? I can’t even handle what I have.” His tone carried a teasing edge, his eyebrows raised in a challenge.

"Aresenn Praetor"