Ours
Demiah lounged lazily across the steps leading to the small porch, watching with a smile as a small Dunmer boy ran through the fields that sprawled out before the little cottage. The air was crisp with the chill that warned of the close dawning of autumn. Her heart turned to her husband, gone after a clan of vampires in the far west of the Reach. By now, she had grown used to the long absences. But each time was no easier than the last, the worry that ate at her for his safety never quite seemed to ebb.
Suddenly the elfling cried out in surprise. The womer rose to her feet, as fast as one heavy with child could, craning her neck to see what had alerted her son, wary of danger. In the distance, she could see the familiar form of Ulkon making his way closer. The little Dunmer called out to him, taking off at a dead sprint to meet his father. Demiah followed the boy, though at a much slower pace, and should couldn’t help but beam.