"My wardrobe is a tragedy of domestic warfare!" Thalor protested, though his hold on a sleep-blinking Sora remained fiercely protective as he stood up from the table.
Noah rested his heavy chin right on top of my head, his dark wolf ears finally relaxing, giving a contented twitch against my hair.
"I think Kaelen's jaw strength has officially earned him a spot in the forge rotations when he turns five. Harok won't even need a hammer."
"He's not touching the forge until he's ten, Noah!" I laughed, leaning back into his solid, comforting chest while balancing the two hyperactive one-year-olds on my hips.
Kaelen was currently trying to grab my braided hair with a wide, toothy grin, his fluffy black tail wagging so fast it was a complete blur, while Sora methodically traced the collar of my linen tunic with her sharp little tiger claws, letting out a soft, satisfied purr.
