Wren
We left on a blue-and-gold morning in late spring, and the leaving itself nearly didn't survive.
Not the pups, the pups were fine. Finn was so delighted by the occupying force of grandmothers that he barely registered our departure. Weir performed a brief audit of our luggage, approved it, and returned to his ledger. Liesel patted each of our faces in turn, unbothered, sunny, entirely certain of our return in the way she is entirely certain of sunrise.
No. It was the parents who nearly didn't survive. Zephyr rechecked the ward schedules three times. Lucien left Selene eleven pages of instructions for three healthy children and then stood in the courtyard visibly fighting the urge to make it twelve. I cried into Liesel's hair until Maren physically pried me loose, and Caius, our uns
