#chivburr

History will call them friends :’)

sparring practice for springfest

Chiv jounced our son on his knee. Our boy was a smaller version of him, down to the cowlick on the back of his head. The same smile, same way of throwing their head back when they laughed. Like they were doing now.

I handed Chiv his tea, with honey as he liked, and joined him on the bench. I slung my arm over his shoulder with a casualness I had never before evinced. His leg stopped bouncing to take a sip, and our boy scowled.

“Our son might look like me, but look! He acts like you!” Chiv grinned.

I jolted awake to the sound of a dog whining, the thump of a leg kicking out. Fitz lay before the fire, curled up like a dog, his lips a snarl. His arms and legs paddled as though he ran on all fours.