I lie awake that night, with my mate’s body molded into mine. I was careful not to show her my fear when she told me she was carrying my cub again. Last time, in the days leading up to our daughter’s birth, I was a fucking mess. My mate sent me calming thoughts through the bond, even throughout our daughter’s birth, though I should have been the one to comfort her. It was the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed, as Sage was born beneath the grove of Alder trees. I cried tears of not only joy, but also great relief, that the moon was in our favor that night.But the moon is not without mercy. Tonight, the moon grants me a dream. Of the things to come. Parts of me and Sloane’s story still being written. I am holding my mate’s hand, on the night of the spring equinox, when she births our twin daughters Ava and Caralee, both squalling into this world. Jack and Everest follow a few years after. I watch flashes of our cubs growing, chasing rabbits and fireflies in the woods, then ta
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