The two weeks were not uneventful.
That was the nature of a compound with five hundred wolves and an ongoing archive cataloguing project and a new dissolution framework being built from clean foundations and a six-week-old child named Aldis who had decided that nights were for opinions and days were for sleeping.
Marcus had the specific exhausted quality of a new father who had been expecting this and was still surprised by the reality of it.
"She's very loud," he said to me on the fourth morning of the two weeks. He was in the kitchen at six because child Aldis had been awake at four and he had been awake with her and had eventually concluded that sleep was not returning and the kitchen was better than lying in the dark.
"Yes," I said.
"Neva is very calm about it," he said.
"Yes," I
