the way they always do, When you're ridin' sixteen hours
And there's nothin' much to do
As he thought she might, X'yrin proved willing to help him comb his fur out. She laid aside what she had been working on -- it proved to be wool, he thought -- and took the comb, motioning for him to turn. He did, wiggling on his rump till he faced away from her, still holding the youngling. As she began, first picking through and then beginning to drag the comb through a chunk of mane, the comb snagged just every little bit. At first the man sounded much like a small child, with muttered 'Ouch'es under his breath. Eventually, with a sigh, he just resigned himself to the unique pain of having hair pulled, firmly determining that from now on, he would be caring for the longer fur much more carefully.
He broke the silence at length. That wool you're workin' with? Ain't done it myself, but I've seen it spun. Makes it longer and stronger. C'n be dyed colors too, afterward, if you have the right ingredients. He left off talking again, sitting quietly but for the very quiet sound of the comb through hair. He shifted Zeus around so the pup's hindquarters were laying in his lap, with his shoulders and neck cradled gently in Asgeir's hands. He did not know of the injuries the pup had sustained, but handled him with the softness necessary for young things. His fingers brushed gently at the pup's face, stroking and petting, and a fond smile crossed his face. His own pups had not been golden, at least not the ones he had seen - the ones by his Karina - but Zeus took him back to the time when they were his size.
His ears flattened in sadness, and a tear rolled down his cheek, but he remained quiet, not letting on to his tears. X'yrin did not need to hear about his dead mate, he decided, and he did not need to look the right fool by blubbering about Karina and their children in front of her. It would not help either one of them. He would just focus on the young one in his hands, never mind what might be wrong with him. There was not much that would have kept Asgeir from wanting to be tender with the pup. He missed being a father, and it had been two years since he had held a child so small in his hands. And his four had not chosen to learn from his skills, either in spear-play or in carpentry; perhaps Zeus would.
You just wish the trip was through
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