Pulling Through
It was around lunchtime.
The baby was asleep in his crib. He'd just been put to bed not too long ago, after having his milk. And after Ross had changed his diaper. And, finally, he'd dozed off, and finally, his parents had some quiet time to themselves.
Which they were appropriately relishing.
"Admiral Flint," Aria said, with a quiet huff-puff, "is to be ... to be visiting," she whispered, "today."
"Yeah?"
Aria inhaled. Held the breath. And nodded lightly. "Y-yeah ... " She was sitting, leaning back on the couch, her legs open.
Ross, on his knees on the floor, looking up at her, licking his wet lips, asked seriously, "We're not in trouble, are we? I mean ... cause of those ambassadors?"
"I doubt it," she breathed, as bare as he was. (Their clothes in a little pile a few feet away.) And a little, little sigh escaped her lips. And she shook her head a bit. "No, I ... I assume he's going to officially," she said, "give us our next assignment, or ... something ... " She trailed off. Her slender waggle-ears waggled.
A light licking sound coming from him. And his tail snaking behind him, in a pleasant, satisfied way. Oh, but he was enjoying himself. Through her haziness, she eye-smiled at this, and shook her head a bit. And then sighed again.
He kept going. Beginning the act.
"I, uh," she then breathed, "thought we could have Ollie and Arianna over ... " A sigh. "Over," she repeated, and then trailed. And swallowed. "For supper," she finally finished. "To, uh ... they adopted ... "
" ... a boy," Ross breathed. "Yeah, I ... that's good. I'll ... cook something," he whispered. His head tilted just a bit, muzzle damp. He sucked at the pink, delicate flesh of her labia. Sucked, with a soft, soft motion, and then stopped. His paws on her thighs, constantly, barely rubbing, rubbing.
"I will," Aria breathed, "inform them ... later ... " Her muzzle parted, tongue poking out, and she licked her dry lips. "Oh," was the sound that came out, like a rush of air. "Oh," she went again, and this time, the sound carried the growing reality of her pleasure.
Ross adjusted his muzzle, and then gave as broad a lick as he could (with his meager, mousey tongue, which wasn't the most versatile of tongues) up her vulva. A slow, lingering lick, and he paused at the top, and he lips slid around her emerging, little nub, which was peeking from its hood. Lips went, went. And he nibbled with such delicacy.
The snow rabbit mewed with pleasure.
His tongue-tip danced on her clitoris, now, while his lips stayed around it.
Mew! And she began to squirm. Her bobtail, trapped between her body and the couch-cushions, helplessly flicked.
Which was his signal that, yes, it felt good, but it was a bit too much. So, he, his nose flaring, went a few inches down. His paws sliding from her thighs to the delicate flesh of her lower-lips, lightly pulling, prying them apart.
She drew a baited breath.
And the mouse, whiskers twitching, brushing her delicate regions, pressed his lips right in there. Into all that glistening, scented pink. Squeaking lightly, making out with utter femininity. With noisy slurps and sucks, his eyes closing. His nose sniffing fiercely.
The snow rabbit's breath shakily left her. Mew ... mew ...
His tongue lapping, worming at her opening.
She was panting, now, and on feminine instinct, she tried to raise and spread her legs. Mew. Legs lifting, and her sitting position on the couch melting, sinking down. Mew, was her pleading sound. Her loins ached in the best way. They ached.
Ross's instincts, clued as they were to hers, understood. He understood, and he slipped two fingers between her folds, and slid them, very gently, into her. An inch. And then sinking them the rest of the way into her. And her walls shuddered.
Her sigh was one of gratitude. Grateful for her tunnel being filled. Even if it was only his fingers, it eased the loin-aching. And settled her down. And it felt so good. For he was sliding those fingers back and forth, back and forth, in a slick, slow motion, his fingers curving, fingertips rubbing the top wall of her vaginal canal. Dragging along there with the slickest of frictions, trying to stimulate that sweet spot she had.
He put his nose, now, on her mons, where her snowy-white fur was thicker, tufted (for furs tended to have thicker fur on the groin). And he breathed deeply through the nose. And sighed heavily. And breathed again. Her scent. Oh, her scent. And, panting, he traced the edges of her pussy-lips with his tongue and lips, licking where the fur ended and the flesh started, and licking that thin perimeter of 'fuzz.' And, then, unable to stick to teasing her edges, he went back between the lips, to the glistening, searing pink flesh, greedily squeaking as, more and more, he tasted of her, lathered her with his saliva.
She mewed consistently, gripping the couch. Oh, he was good. Oh, this was good. Oh, this was nice, nice, nice. Her lactating breasts hung loosely, nipples getting hard, harder.
And the mouse began to muzzle hump. Muzzle pressing, staying, pulling back, pressing. Muzzle-hump. Fingers sliding in and out, in and out, dragging along the top of her canal, and then slipping out of the way, so both his paws could go to her thighs, keeping her legs parted and lifted, and ...
... she lost it. The suddenness and ferocity of it elicited sharp, rising mews and moans of pleasure, oh, yes, pleasure, and ... " ... bark, bark!" Rabbit-barks, let loose from her panting muzzle, her eyes squeezed shut, and her ears drooped over. Orgasm. Her uterus, her vagina, all of it contracting, fluttering, in such rhythmic spasms.
What a thing this way! What a thing to bestow ...
... oh, pleasure!
Femme juice was dribbling, leaking right onto the mouse's lips and tongue. He let it wet his muzzle. Let the scent assault his nose. And, after a few seconds, he pulled back, panting hard. He felt dizzy on eroticism. Felt drunk on snow rabbit. Felt drunk on her. His wife and his love, and the spiritual intimacy that cradled them both.
Oh, this act ... oh, blessed.
Ross blew out a breath, still panting. He gave a tiny chitter.
She already had her water bottle in her paws, greedily gulping, gulping, the water dripping from her lips and whisker-tips. And, when she'd downed most of the bottle, she sighed heavily, and sank into the cushions, her legs lowering. And she eyed him, seeing he was very erect. Seeing he was dripping little beads from his tip.
His eyes met hers. His chest heaving.
"Do you need," she breathed, "help with that?" She spoke with a want, and a passion, and a love. She was more than willing to return the pleasure she'd been given. She was more than willing to try.
A shy, ear-blushing nod. His eyes giving her a nonverbal 'please.'
And the snow rabbit slid off the couch, and patted the cushions. "Hop on," she instructed. She was on her knees, now, and the meadow mouse eagerly took her spot on the couch, his tail threading about like a live wire, and his nerves alight in anticipation.
He spread his legs, sucking in air ...
... as she began to give him careful, delicate muzzle. Bobbing with wet, warm softness, avoiding any direct stimulation to the head. Not wanting to get him over-sensitive and kill his erection (as sometimes could happen).
Oh, but they'd practiced.
Oh, but she knew what she was doing ... mm ... she knew ... what she was doing ...
The three femmes were in the science lab, chattering.
"No, but, see, Jinx told me ... " Ezri lowered her voice, leaning against a console, her paws tense. " ... no, he told me about the whole meeting." Her angular ears were cocked atop her head. And her bushy tail flicker-flicked.
"It can't have been that bad," Arabella reasoned. The kangaroo rat's whiskers twitched. And she waited to hear the rest.
"No, it was. It was ... "
Bic had given up on trying to work (she was the only fur that was supposed to be in the science lab right now, anyway, but the other two had shown up, insisting on 'having snacks,' and then snacks had turned into 'snacks and gossip'). Anyway, they were still in dry-dock next to S-7. Really not much work TO do, was there? Not until the ship got moving again.
" ... cause the ambassadors had orders to give US orders, you know, like us 'warm-blood' furs, I mean ... we have orders to return back to Federation space. They want to reassign us all."
"They can't do that," Arabella said, whiskers twitching even more. There was worry in her voice. To leave her friends? They'd all been through so much together, and the thought of going back to Federation space didn't have an appeal to her.
"We're Federation officers. If we're ordered to go," Bic said, injecting into the conversation, trying to be a voice of reason, "we have to ... " A sigh. "It'll be, like, what ... my fifth, sixth reassignment in the past two years?" A pained look, and a shake of the head. "I fall in love, and I get reassigned ... and, inevitably, my love doesn't." A pause. "I don't know how furs can have long-distance marriages, and ... I don't want that to happen to me and Barrow. It's too hard. I get too lonely."
"No, no," Ezri chittered, shaking her head. "You don't understand. Yeah, those were the ORDERS, but Aria told them to shove it. So, we're all staying."
"She said 'shove it'?" Arabella asked, blinking. "Really?" Her eyes widened with curiosity.
"Well, she didn't say it like THAT, or use those words ... okay, she didn't say that. But that's what she meant. She told them that we were her officers now, and that the Federation had no logical reason to withdraw from their earlier agreement ... and if they wanted us back, they'd have to come and take us by force."
Bic raised her eyes. Her chipmunk tail wavered slightly.
Ezri just nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "So ... the Federation didn't take kindly to that."
"I wouldn't think so," the chipmunk agreed.
"Well, maybe they didn't, but ... do any of you WANT to leave?" Arabella asked.
And the two femmes said nothing. Just shook their heads.
"Yeah, neither do I ... I'd rather follow Aria than some faceless admiral back on Home-world."
"We ARE officers, though. Do we have a choice?" Bic asked again. "I mean, even if Aria said she's not letting us leave ... and even if none of us WANT to leave, is it really our option? Didn't we give up that right when we joined the service? I mean, aren't we being, like, insubordinate?"
"I don't know," Ezri confessed. "But things are different, now. I mean ... situations are different, now, you know?" she rationalized. A sigh. "Anyway, so, we're staying ... but the Federation doesn't like that, and they got mad. And, THEN," she added, in an excited, chittering tone, her whiskers twitching, "I was listening to the comm traffic, right, like how I do ... "
" ... wait, wait," Arabella said. The kangaroo rat was sitting on a console. Swinging her big, bare foot-paws a bit. And her tufted tail snaked around. "We're stationary, in dry-dock, and you're listening to comm traffic?"
"Well ... yeah."
"Well, how come?"
"Look, it gives me something to do. Plus, you hear lots of interesting things ... "
Bic gave Arabella a wink, and joked, "She means that she and the other comm officers on the other ships ... exchange gossip and eavesdrop on official communications."
"No ... no, we do not!" the squirrel insisted, but she blushed as she said this, getting a bit hot beneath her fur. She took a breath, continuing, "Well ... anyway, are you gonna let me finish, or what?"
The other two nodded.
"Okay," she said, gesturing with her paws, "so the Federation ambassadors left, okay, and then an order was sent out for all Federation ships in this sector to go back WITH the ambassadors, and go back to ... you know, Federation space."
"That's a month away."
"I know, but they wanted their ships back. Luminous, Solstice, and that other one."
"Illustrious," Bic supplied.
"Yeah. So, they sent out the order. And ... " She trailed for dramatic effect.
The other two rodents waited.
" ... and they didn't respond. Not a single one of them. They just ignored the order and stayed on their routes."
Bic's whiskers twitched.
"That's not good," Arabella said. "I mean ... you know, even if I agree with them not wanting to go back, that's still ... "
" ... not good," Ezri supplied, echoing her. "Yeah. I think Aria may have secretly tipped them off, though. I'm not sure. But I think Solstice and Luminous are gonna come to the snow rabbit home-world here to, uh, meet with the snow rabbit admirals. About forming some kind of more permanent relationship with them." A breath. "So, THEN, the Federation sends out another message, and threatens all this stuff. Court martial. All this stuff. Still no response. So, a third message gets sent out, and ... " The squirrel lowered her voice. " ... and they were really mad by now." A pause. A twitch. "And, uh, then the fourth message," she whispered. "The last one."
"What did the fourth message say?" the chipmunk asked, swallowing. Her tail waved. And stopped. And she brought it around to her front, holding it to her breasts.
"They say that they're severing all diplomatic and governmental ties with the snow rabbits ... and that all Federation ships and officers still in snow rabbit space are to be considered 'renegades.' If they find us, they're to arrest us. If we resist, they destroy us."
The other two femmes were silent.
"But, uh ... you know, as long as we don't go back to Federation space, we'll be fine, I'm sure." And some silence. "But they're sealing their borders."
"What?" Bic breathed, sitting up straighter at that last bit. "The Federation's closing their borders?"
"Yeah," the squirrel went, nodding.
"That makes no sense ... "
"So, we're outlaws?" Arabella asked, eyes wide.
"The Federation didn't sent any help," Bic whispered, "during the war ... they just ... I don't know what's going on back there." A pause. "Closing their borders? That's xenophobic. That's not gonna protect them from anything. It's only going to weaken them."
"Jinx says that Aria thinks that they're becoming isolationist ... so the government can control the populace better. Cause maybe they're on the verge of civil war, and the furs in charge are trying to put a stronghold on whatever they can."
Arabella sighed, whiskers twitching. "I didn't think things were that bad ... I mean, when I left home, it ... I don't know," she said, trailing, not knowing what to say.
"If that's what the Federation is doing, though, then why isn't anybody ... you know, resisting?"
"They're probably too close to the situation," Ezri said, "to really see what's going on. I mean, us, we're out on the frontier, and it's ... easier to watch things from afar and ... but, you know, if you're in the middle of a storm, your view is kind of limited."
"Mm. Maybe ... "
There was quiet.
"Wow," Bic breathed. "That's depressing." She reached for a carrot stick. And chomped on it. Crunching it. Crunch-crunch.
"Yeah," Ezri concurred, drooping a bit. And grabbing a peanut butter-laden celery stick off the nearest plate.
"Hey, that's mine," Arabella said.
"Oh. Well ... "
" ... well, you can have it. I got more." A little smile. "Food-stealer."
"I'm not a food-stealer!" Ezri squeaked, with bubbly adamance. "Am not ... "
Bic just chewed on her carrot. And swallowed. Saying, "Well, I guess, you know, way out here ... we're safe from whatever goes on back home, and back on the core worlds. I mean, we're light years from that. A whole month's journey." Not all of them came from Home-world. Arabella came from one of the 'core worlds,' for instance. Them being the cluster of planets that made up the center of Federation space. Home-world was simply the most densely-populated of those planets, and the designated capital. And the historical originating point of all furs. "I mean, we're safe, right?"
"Yeah," Arabella said. "I guess so." A chomp-chomp on a celery stick. "Though, you know, all the stuff that happens nowadays ... you can never tell." A breath. "I guess we'll just have to pray about it. I mean, God's in control, you know ... it'll be okay," she assured, trying to offer calm. Trying to slow everyone's heart-rate.
"You're right." Ezri reached for some buttered French bread. "Who's is this?"
"That's mine," Bic said. "You can have it."
"I love bread," the squirrel went, sinking her teeth into it. "Mm ... " Her bushy, brown, luxurious tail flagged behind her.
Arabella, piping up again, said, "We're safe from it, yes, but ... you know, IF ... IF," she stressed, "they do go to civil war, then the outcome, you know, will affect the balance of power and stuff ... all over the quadrant. I mean, what if the predators win? Then we'll be back where we started."
"Us prey, you mean. Us prey are back where we started."
"Yeah. I mean, if the predators win, we'll be back where we started ... "
"I'd just as soon stay with the snow rabbits. You know, they're ... at least they're sane," Ezri said, swallowing, her whiskers twitching. She held her bread in one paw. "You know ... even if they can be a bit aloof."
"We all have family ... back there. We all have friends. We all grew up there. It's ... even if we're at a safe distance, it's still depressing," Bic said, "to see all that happening. Why would the Federation sever ties with the snow rabbits? We were supposed to be allies. That's why we were all assigned to Arctic in the first place. To increase relations." Her features scrunched up. "And then they just wanna cancel out their part of the deal?"
"I don't know ... we'll just have to wait and see what happens. I mean, maybe nothing will happen, right?" Arabella said, hopefully.
"I don't know," Ezri whispered. "The Federation's communiques were ... weren't happy ones. They're really mad."
"We didn't do anything to them," Bic claimed. "They're being unreasonable. They could LEARN a thing or two from the snow rabbits ... " She trailed. It was kind of funny. Relating more with the snow rabbits than with all the species of furs back home. She wouldn't have thought that way a year ago, no. But she had a lot more experience, now. "I don't know," she then whispered, sighing through the nose. "We're Federation officers, right? But ... we're not, now, are we? Anymore? So ... are we part of the snow rabbit High Command, now, or what?"
"Hmm ... hey, Ezri, if we are in the High Command, that means Jinx won't be called 'Commander Jinx' anymore. We'll have to call him 'Sub-Commander Jinx'. That's what the snow rabbits call their commanders. Sub-commander ... "
Ezri thought that one over. And gave a little squeak. "Sub-Commander," she said, trying it out on her tongue, and then smiling a bit. "Mm ... I like the sound of that ... "
Arabella giggle-chittered.
Bic just smiled lightly, grabbing another carrot. And she gnawed on it. Suddenly very glad for the company. And not caring that her busywork was being interrupted. Friendship and conversation paid much greater dividends, anyway.
"We still have the issue of the Arctic foxes," said Admiral Flint, an older snow rabbit. In his late-forties, early-fifties, maybe. His fur was turning a little bit grey, here and there, but was still mostly-white. "We still need to get them off our moon."
"Agreed," said Aria, strolling with the Admiral, showing him Arctic. He'd never been aboard a Crystalline-Class vessel, for it was a fairly new classification. More were being built, though, now that the war was over. "Am I to assume that is our next assignment?"
A quiet nod. Padding, with bare foot-paws, down the corridor, turning to the right. Heading for the nearest lift. "Yes. When your repairs are finished, you're to search for a new world for them. An ice world. We know of likely locations for some, but ... all our deep-space probes were destroyed by the wasps, so we don't have any directions to point you in."
"How far am I to go," Aria asked, "in this search?" Her bobtail flicked. She was all cleaned and groomed (with no lingering scent of what she and her husband had been up to an hour or so before).
"We don't want you more than a week away," he said. "With all the rising threats and tensions ... it would be best if the foxes were kept within reasonable distance of us. We don't want them breathing down our necks. We still don't trust them enough for that. But ... keep them close enough that, if needed, we can reach each other. Plus, your ship is our flagship. I do not want your search to take you too far from home."
"Flagship?"
"Yes. You took over that duty during the war, and ... you shall keep it," the admiral said, eye-smiling.
Aria eye-smiled in return, tilting her head, "Thank you. But ... we are a small ship. Under fifty furs. Surely, there are bigger vessels, more ... "
" ... capable vessels? Maybe. But Arctic is a sleek, reliable ship. And you are a good captain. You have proven that. We want the flagship to be in your paws."
Aria swallowed, and nodded again. Honored. "Thank you," she said again. She felt a flush of heat.
They reached the lift.
The doors swished open, and they stepped inside. The doors closing, and Aria saying, "Bridge."
The lift began to whir.
Admiral Flint took a breath, and then said, suddenly, as if dropping a bomb, "I'm assigning two Arctic foxes to your crew."
"Computer, HALT lift," was Aria's immediate response, her body suddenly tense, and her eyes squinting. The whirring stopped. "What?" she whispered.
"I am assigning ... "
" ... why?" she asked, shaking her head.
"We cannot go out there and choose their new home-world ... and not give them a say in it. They will need to be with you during the search." A pause. "I am only assigning two."
"Two," Aria whispered, "too many."
"Captain ... "
"I fought against them, sir. In the war. I ... they did things to me, and I ... " She swallowed. "I did things to them," she whispered, "in return. And I know I helped save their species. And I know our relations have mended, but ... I have a child."
"Yes, I know." A pause. A squint. "I hear it didn't come from a breeding party ... "
"I have a husband," she whispered.
The Admiral just nodded, saying nothing more on the subject. Only, "What does having a child have to do with ... "
" ... the Arctic foxes? I do not trust them. I would not trust them with my life. Nor with the life of my child. Our two species may be allies, now," she admitted, "but I, myself, am not so enlightened as to feel comfortable allowing them on my ship."
"While it is your ship, Captain, yes ... it also OUR ship. You're one of our best. This ship," the Admiral assured, "is one our best. And the foxes need to be included in the search for their new home-world. It is only logical. I am only assigning two ... "
" ... why not just ... "
" ... one? Because they need to breed. As we do. Naturally, I would prefer they do it with each other." A pause. "So, I'm assigning a male and a femme, and they will speak for their species. They've been chosen by their fellow foxes to join you." A pause. "And, if all goes well, Captain, perhaps they could STAY as members of your crew ... "
"Now, we're getting ahead of ourselves," Aria whispered, barely audible, her eyes glinting in a steely way.
"Aria," Flint said, quietly. "I've known you since you were a lieutenant ... "
"Yes," she whispered, meeting the admiral's eyes.
"You never seemed, to me, to be one capable of hatred."
"It is not a hatred I feel," she whispered. "It is ... " She shook her head, licking her lips, her eyes darting. "There is no word for it," she finally said, her eyes, once more, meeting his. "I will welcome the Arctic foxes onto the ship. They will be a part of my crew. But I am not going to lie to you: it makes me uneasy."
"It would make me uneasy, as well," Flint confessed. "I am not saying that it wouldn't. I am simply saying that this is the way it has to be, and ... it is," he insisted, "for the better. As a Christian, you know that."
She nodded quietly. "I do," she whispered.
"Besides, if and when the Furry Federation decides to self-destruct ... we will need the Arctic foxes on our side. We will need allies. The last thing we want is for the predators to wrest complete control of the Federation and then launch a task force to wipe us out."
"Do you really think they would do that?"
"It is a scenario," he said, "that the militia has brought to our attention. We are planning for every potential outcome."
"And if it blows over?" she asked, hopefully.
"You, yourself, spoke to their ambassadors. You heard how their communiques to their three ships were ignored." A pause. "Do you think it will blow over?"
Aria shook her head. "No," she whispered seriously. "I do not."
The admiral said nothing.
"However, the Arctic foxes are predators. If the predators wrest control of the Federation, who's to say the foxes won't join the Federation?"
"Because they don't know the Federation. Better the enemy," the admiral said, "you know, Captain."
"That has a bit of logic to it," she admitted. "However, this entire situation is ... unstable," she whispered. Confiding, once more, "The Arctic foxes cannot be trusted. I cannot bring myself," she said, her whisper fading into a louder sound, "to trust them. I know what they can do!"
"That was in the past, Captain. You will have to get over it."
"I had gotten over it," she whispered.
"And? You fear that, by having foxes permanently aboard your ship, by seeing them daily ... old demons and memories will be reawakened inside you? That the past will be dug up? And that your husband will find out the buried particulars of your past? That the foxes will bait you?"
She said nothing.
"They have been on our moon ... for nearly a year, now, Aria. Your father, as I recall, has been working with them daily."
"I know. I talked to him when I was on the surface."
"And?"
"And he ... was impressed," she whispered, "by their softened demeanor. By the level of trust they ... he was able to forge with them."
"There you go," the admiral said. "If your father can trust them, then so," he reasoned, "can you."
"I am not my father."
"No, you are not. But, from what I've read of your service record, you are your father's daughter ... emphatically. You love him very much."
"I do."
"So, follow his example. Cooperate with the foxes. We ALL want them off our moon," the admiral insisted. "We all have issues with them. Believe me," he assured, his eyes darting. "I fought in the war, too. I was a captain, myself, then. I saw things, and I did things ... and I had things done to me. But ... we forgive. Maybe we don't forget, but we forgive, and we move on."
"I do know this, sir," she emphasized.
"Then why are your muscles still tensed? Why do you look as if you're about to bolt?"
She met his eyes. And said, quite honestly, "Instinct." A breath. "My heart can forgive. My heart can unlearn. But my instinct ... does not follow logic. It simply tells me not to trust predators. It simply tells me that they have sharp teeth and sharp claws, and that they like the taste of my blood. My instinct tells me to be afraid."
"A fur is more than the sum of his or her genes. We're more than instinct."
"I know. But its influence cannot be denied."
"No," the admiral agreed. "But I know, in your case, your heart will trump your instinct, and you will do the right thing." A breath. "They will not come aboard until you are ready for re-launch. So, another week," he said.
"I will inform my crew to give them the utmost courtesy and respect."
"Thank you," the admiral said. "Now, we were going to tour the bridge?"
A slight nod. "Computer, resume lift," she said.
And the whirring started again.
"How come he's got grey fur?"
"Well," Ross said, standing, holding his son, who was kicking his little legs a bit. Wearing only a diaper. "Well, that's cause his mom's got white fur, and I got brown fur, and ... well, when God mixed it all together, this is the color he came out as."
"Oh," went Sheridan, waggling his ears, standing beside the meadow mouse, looking up. And looking, also, at the baby. "Well, how come his foot-paws aren't like yours?"
"Cause he's got rabbit foot-paws. Some parts of him are rabbit-like, and other parts of him are mouse-like."
"Hmm. How come?"
Ross let out a breath. "Uh ... well, like I said. I'm his daddy, and his mommy," he said, pointing at Aria, who was mingling with Arianna, "is different than me. And ... well, Sterling's made of half of me and half of his mommy."
"Does he squeak? Or does he mew? What sounds does he make? When's he gonna be able to talk?"
"Well, uh ... too many questions," Ross said, giggle-squeaking. And before he could answer any of them, the little snow rabbit prattled on.
"Ollie's a mouse."
"I know." Ross smiled.
"He's a different color than you."
"Well, he's a snow mouse, and I'm a meadow mouse ... we're different mouses."
"Oh." The little rabbit considered, and then announced, as he liked to do, "I'm seven years and eight months old."
"Wow. Really?" Ross asked, smiling. "Well, you're an up-and-comer, then."
"What's that mean?"
"Well ... " A sigh. "It just means you're on the rise."
"What's that mean?"
"On the rise? Well, you're ... " A trail. And he bit his lip. "Uh ... " A little giggle-squeak. "Sorry, kid, you're putting me under too much pressure. I'm gonna sit down," he said, going for a chair. Letting out a little, giggling sigh.
Aria came by, brushing her paw along his whiskers.
He closed his eyes. He loved having his whiskers so airily brushed. They twitched. And he breathed deep, and then opened his eyes, looking up to his wife. "Hey," he whispered.
"Hello," she responded, smiling. "Arianna was asking me for parenting advice."
"And?"
"And I told her I'm still a beginner. But I told her I would help her out, as needed."
"Ollie's beaming. Look at him. He's really changed since he came aboard, you know ... "
"A lot of us have," Aria whispered, taking a deep breath. Holding it. And slowly letting it out. "We all have." A pause. "Little Sterling," she whispered, her paws reaching for their child.
Ross handed him over. Very carefully.
And Aria made a little, contented mew-sound as she brought her baby close. "You are living in a big, wide universe," she told him, in a calm, cool tone. "It may be overwhelming at times, but ... we are going to pull through," she assured him. "The Lord as our shepherd, and Christ as our guide ... I believe we shall be pulled through."
Ross, leaning back in his chair, brushed her body with his paw. "I second that," he told her.
"Do you?" An eye-smile from her.
The meadow mouse nodded. Smiling brightly, his dimples showing, and his whiskers twitching. "Mm-hmm."
"Ross ... uh, are we gonna eat?" Ollie asked.
"Yeah," the mouse said, popping to his foot-paws. "I got it all prepared. Wanna help me set up?"
"Sure," said the white-furred mouse.
"I would like to help, too," little, adopted Sheridan said, following the mouses into the kitchen.
And Aria looked into her baby's eyes. And then closed her own eyes, and put her nose to his. And gave him the gentlest of nuzzles.
Yes, they were going to pull through.
She had no doubt of it.