By midafternoon, Alex felt stable enough to move from the bridge nest to the guest lodge—though "stable" was a relative term when your legs still felt like jelly and six tiny serpents were practicing their tumbling routine in your abdomen.
Naga carried him most of the way, refusing all protests with a simple: "You went through heat crisis last night. You're not walking."
"I can walk," Alex protested as Naga scooped him up princess-style for the third time that hour.
"You fell over twice trying to stand up," Naga pointed out.
"That was the babies being weird, not me being weak!"
"The babies don't have legs yet. You do. Theoretically." Naga adjusted his grip as one of said babies delivered a particularly enthusiastic kick to Alex's bladder.
"Though I'm starting to question whether your legs remember how to function."
"They function fine! They're just... on strike. Temporarily. Due to being overworked by gestating six tiny acrobats."
