really sorry for making everyone wait! ><
Denver was grateful for the permission they'd been granted. He'd been worrying about that for a while, knowing how bored the kids would have been waiting at the border for who knows how long. Even he hated doing it. The trek there wasn't much better, but at least it went by quickly.The sights and sounds of Cours des Miracles brought back vivid memories to the ivory mutt. It wasn't so long ago that he'd first come to Nova Scotia, and not long before that that he'd still lived at home, on the farm.
By the time they arrived, Denver was uncomfortable and panting. Pale blues stared up at the familiar hotel with relief; at least it was shade, at least they could rest. As soon as they stopped, Houston collapsed in a shaggy heap at his feet. Denver smiled down at the exhausted pup, then turned to Maggie as she stepped towards the door. Knowing they had to get inside, the Confidant nudged his son with his foot, prodding him awake. "C'mon, son, get inside," he mumbled. He knew the pup was tired-- they all were-- but they would rest soon. The pair followed Maggie and the girls inside, letting the door creak shut behind them.
They didn't wait long for Niro to come hobbling out of the hall, leg and arm wrapped and shoulder bandaged. Denver had never seen the wolf looking so rough. Unable to hide his shock, the mutt let Maggie take the lead when he approached. A heartbeat later, though, something else came rushing into the room. A husky, he thought, but knew it couldn't be. Could it? He watched with a smirk as the pup crashed into Maggie, staring up at her with a wide mouth. Denver couldn't help but chuckle as he held back his own son, who cried out in his mothers defense. He patted his son reassuringly as the other black and white pup retreated right into his own mothers arms.
Denver remembered Amaranth, too, and he smiled when she introduced her son. "Hey Heiro; this here's Houston. He's a bit younger'n you, though." Houston's wide eyes stared up at the older boy on two legs, jealous of his walking. The pup shook his silvery-grey mane, ears flopping against his face. "Dad," he whined, "I want to walk on two legs, too!" Denver laughed, shaking his head and ruffling his son's hair. "Four legs are good, too, son. But two'll come soon enough; just wait." He himself preferred two, as well, but he wasn't going to tell his son that; like any young boy, he would need to spend a few long months in anticipation.
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