The heavy wooden door of the nursery clicked softly shut.
Sensing the Matriarch's desperate need for a moment of unadulterated privacy, Dena had offered Roxy a gentle, deeply understanding squeeze on the shoulder before quietly slipping out to help Kaelen corral the chaotic herd of hungry, overly-excited pre-teens. The absolute, deafening chaos that had consumed the Iron-Wood Manor all morning finally, mercifully faded, leaving behind a thick, sun-drenched silence.
Roxy was entirely alone.
She sat cross-legged in the very center of the plush, oversized fur rug, the golden morning light streaming through the frosted windowpanes and catching the dust motes dancing in the air.
In her arms, the dramatic, ear-splitting wails of the Kitsune infant miraculously began to cease.
