Bearheart let his gaze wander through the den, and what it found made him smile.
Snowfall was curled up against her mother, almost like a cub, while she told her something, her expressive hands dancing to underline her words. On the other side two black-haired maidens were bent low over their work, sharing a harmonious silence as Whispersilk moved her shuttle through her weaving with skilled fingers and Brook was cutting leather for a new project. Bearheart sighed, contented, as he took in the peaceful domestic scene. It was rare that their family was together like this – Snowfall had long gone on to her own den and family just like Whispersilk had left the family den, and even Brook had started to talk about her having her own den recently. But still, here they were, all of them together. The hunter returned his attention to the dagger he was sharpening, listening to Snowfall’s voice with half an ear.
What a lucky elf he was!
The thought had barely passed when Brook turned to Whispersilk to ask her something he did not quite understand over Snowfall’s voice and the weaver answered in her usual clipped way, disrupted in her concentration.
The younger sister, not knowing when to stop, pressed on in a low tone. Whispersilk shook her head, almost protectively drawing her weaving closer to herself.
Brook made a small disappointed noise and gave her sister a look from big pleading eyes – Bearheart was quite sure that he would not have been able to withstand that. But Whispersilk did not look as if she was moved. After some minutes of glances shared – if they talked, they did not do it aloud for their parents and sister to hear – she finally got up in an abrupt movement, and a sharp sound resonated through the den.
It was the sound of fabric ripping. Bearheart saw Snowfall and Dreamberry look up in alarm as Whispersilk stared at her ruined work she had torn with the sudden movement, full of disbelief. Then she turned piercing blue eyes on her sister, and Brook shrank back. They did not speak but Bearheart could feel the heaviness of angry sending passing between the two of them before Whispersilk threw back her heavy tresses and stalked out of the den almost haughtily.
The hunter sighed again. Dreamberry and Snowfall got up, the mother hurrying after her middle cub and his eldest going to speak to a dumbstruck Brook, and Bearheart smiled shrewdly as he caught his lifemate’s eye.
What a lucky elf he was!