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Svajonė lifted her head at the faint crunch of steps outside, the motion slow and careful because everything still hurt. Her leg throbbed in a dull rhythm, and the tiny body nursing at her belly was the only anchor keeping her from drifting into sleep again. The den smelled so strongly of Vidarr it felt almost like leaning against him, and that alone gave her enough courage to stay awake.

She hadn’t quite expected a visitor.

A soft, uncertain presence hovered at the mouth of the den, and Svajonė’s ear flicked toward it. She knew it wasn't Vidarr for if it was he would have entered the den rather immediately than hover outside like some stranger. No, this presence was lighter than Vidarr. Sharper around the edges, perhaps. Like someone trying very hard to be quiet and not succeeding.

...You can come in, you know, Svajone called out gently, her voice a low sing-song and faintly husky with fatigue. I promise I don’t bite unless someone tries to take my dinner.

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