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The morning sun had risen, though its light was hidden by a thick blanket of clouds. A pale gray glow filtered through the entrance of the hollow log, casting everything inside in soft, muted tones. The air was cool, crisp with the fresh scent of the woods after the night’s rainfall. Willow stirred first, her fur brushing against the sides of the log as she yawned and stretched, nudging one of the pups who had curled close against her chest.

Finbar blinked awake, his keen eyes adjusting to the dim light. He watched as Willow tenderly nuzzled their young, her warmth enveloping them in the small space. There was peace in these moments, simple and quiet, like the world outside was miles away. The sound of distant birds chirping reached his ears, but other than that, the forest was still.

Luna was nowhere to be seen. She must have gone home to her pack, slipping away while Finbar had been focused on his family.

Willow glanced at Finbar and smiled softly. "They're so beautiful," she murmured, her voice tender as she gazed down at the pups.

Finbar nodded, though his gaze lingered on Willow more than the pups. She had always been a light in his life, steady and strong, ever since he had come to this land, and watching her now—so loving, so natural—he felt a deep sense of gratitude. His tail thumped gently against the inside of the log, but he remained still, savoring the calm.

“The most beautiful, just as beautiful as my pretty rescuer,” he licked her snout sweetly.

Sugarloaf, Ashen and Moonlily were fast asleep, nourished quite well from mother’s milk.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Suddenly, there was a faint rustle outside, something too deliberate to be wind. Finbar’s ears perked up immediately, alert. He straightened, careful not to wake the pups, and exchanged a quick look with Willow, who seemed relaxed. A thorn gripped his heart and set him ablaze within, a very new sense he had never known; this was fatherhood, the spirit of protectiveness rising up.

A familiar scent wafted into the log. Finbar’s eyes narrowed slightly in confusion—it was a fox, but there was something odd about it. “Bruno?” he called out.

Before he could process it further, a sleek figure appeared at the entrance of the log. A reddish-brown coat, marked with streaks of gray and white, gleamed in the filtered light. It was definitely Bruno, and he had an inquisitive expression.

“Oh, Bruno?” Willow said, her voice filled with warmth. She shuffled slightly, careful of the pups but visibly pleased. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon!”

Bruno wagged his tail and dipped his head politely toward her, though his sharp eyes drifted toward Finbar with an almost mischievous glint. “Thought I’d check in on you,” Bruno said, his tone casual but friendly. “Figured you could use some company out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Finbar sat up straighter, blinking at the unexpected visitor. Having met the fox-dog the night before they had gotten acquainted, but the way Willow greeted him made it clear that Bruno was no stranger to her. “You know him too?” he asked his mate.

“Yea,” Willow said with a soft chuckle, noticing Finbar’s curious gaze. “He’s… an old friend.”

Finbar smiled; he may have been defensive against him at first in the cave, but the wolf-dog knew he needed as many allies as could get now that his secret was out. He frankly did not know what would happen going forward, but his worry increased with the rising of the sun. “You are more than welcome to stay. Thank you for considering us at this time.”

“Just checking in on an old friend. Willow and I go way back,” Bruno sat down near them inside the warm, cozy shelter.

Willow smiled at Finbar, her eyes soft. “Bruno helped me out when I was younger,” she explained. “You could say he’s the reason I survived long enough to meet you.”

“That’s a story I’d love to hear sometime,” Finbar huffed curiously.

Bruno stepped closer, lowering himself to the level of their pups’ with surprising grace. “You’ve done well, there’s not even a runt here,” he remarked to the light-brown she-wolf, then rested his eyes on the wolf-dog, yipping a playful chide, “I think you will both be great parents, even if Dad can be a bit rough around the edges.”

Finbar curled back his snout in good sport, pretending to be offended.