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“Gods, this chill is unbearable.”
“What do you think I bought five blankets for?”
Scouts-Many-Marshes chuckled at his wife’s words, snuggling closer to bask in her warmth, nuzzling his face against the fur on her neck.
“You remind me of a young pup sometimes,” she said.
“I can’t help it. You’re just so soft, warm, someone I could never part away from, even if a million men tried to pry me away.”
Silver-Paw gave a chuckle of her own, nearly muffled by the thunder and lightning booming from outside their humble home.
“The storm’s getting stronger,” he said, as with uncertainty.
“You sound scared,” she told him softly.
“I’ve never been a fan of lightning. Or thunder. Not since I was a hatchling.”
Silver-Paw almost asked him what he meant, but bit her tongue before a word left her mouth.
Not like she needed to.
“I don’t recall which year, but a harsh storm approached Windhelm. Not the usual blizzard, but a thunderstorm. Instead of running back to the assemblage, I stood there, mesmerized as I watched the lightning dance across the sky, hitting mountains and trees alike. And then it got closer. Too close.”
She noticed the faint shakes wracking his form, his hands clutching hard on the bedsheet.
“I tried to run, but this stray bolt…it missed, yet I still felt it, the way it nearly…”
Silver-Paw gently rubbed his back, trying to ease his fear.
“Don’t be afraid. You’re here. With me. Safe and sound.”
She felt the way his body went slump, the tension leaving his muscles as he relaxed against her, his hands letting go to hold her in a hug, or as best as he could while lying on top of her.
“I know. But the memory sticks with me, no matter what I do.”
“Then how about we fight it,” she suggested, Scouts-Many-Marshes moving his head to imitate an eyeroll. "You and me together."
“You and your jokes, huh?”
“I mean, we could if we really wanted to,” she teased, pecking a kiss on his head. “Now how about we get some sleep?”
He nodded, settling in for a long and cozy slumber.