When informed that the rest of the distance would be merely a continuous expanse of ice, Kael couldn't stop smiling. Burrowed close against Valkar's chest, he began humming a cheery tune to himself, the melody jolly and mischievous, like a jest shared with no one. His humming murmured against the dragon man's breast, melting the cold silence of the forest.
For a time, Kael had struggled against being borne. His pride outraged, his mind protested at dignity, at self-reliance, at the shame of being cradled like some frail thing. But slowly, it disintegrated. The thud of Valkar's powerful heart, the warmth that filtered into him from the scaled man's arms, and the lack of anyone to mock or witness—these all eroded his resistance.
And for what? Why should he struggle against it? Who was there to see?
