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Svajonė lay still, exhaustion draped over her like a heavy pelt. The world was quieter now, just the soft rush of the river, Vidarr’s steady warmth beside her, and the faint suckling sounds of the tiny life pressed to her belly.

Her eyes lifted when he spoke, his words reaching through the haze. A weak smile tugged at her muzzle. You always know what to say, she murmured, voice low and hoarse. The little one squirmed, and her heart clenched with something fragile and fierce. He’s strong, she said softly. Stronger than I thought anything left in me could be.

When Vidarr teased her, a breath of laughter slipped past her tired throat. Careful, she whispered, keep talking like that and I’ll have you fetching reeds for my nest before dawn.

Her gaze followed his when he mentioned herbs, then drifted back to the pup. Willow bark, she said quietly. If you find it. It helps dull the ache.

He leaned in, touched her brow, and for a moment she let her eyes close. The world shrank to the sound of his voice — beautiful — and the steady heartbeat between them. When he pulled back, she looked down at her son again, tracing her muzzle along his tiny spine.

His name… she murmured after a long, shaky pause. Her voice was rough, like she’d forgotten how to use it. Reid. She breathed the word out slowly, like it already meant something sacred. For the reeds… where he was born.

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