An hour later the alcove had settled into a new rhythm.
Leo hadn't looked away from the cubs. The largest boy—still rumbling softly against Alex's side—had latched onto his father's finger with surprising strength, tiny golden eyes half-lidded in satisfaction. The girl, had fallen asleep mid-nurse, one eye still cracked open as if she refused to miss anything. The other two boys breathed in perfect sync against Alex's chest, their small golden manes already drying into soft tufts.
Alex felt the ache in his body settle into something deeper than exhaustion—something like peace, if peace could weigh this much. His belly was soft now, empty in a way that still felt strange, the skin loose and marked with faint silver lines that he traced absently with one fingertip. Milk still leaked in slow, warm trickles whenever a cub shifted, and he didn't bother wiping it away. It belonged here.
Then something else stirred.
Not in his belly. Not in the stones.
Inside.
