Ivan
"Vali?" I sat up, seeing my mate sitting by the tent's entrance, covered in nothing but my fur cloak. My youngest child, Skuld, was born with the softest gray hair that now reached her waist and her mother's diamond eyes. "What's wrong?"
"She woke," She whispered, still staring at our daughter. Even though she was nearly a hundred, my little one looked no older than a human child of three or four years. She was much younger than our other two children, who were in adolescence now. "She wanted to look at the moon."
