Aurin chuckled and nudged Salem.I know. And it was kinda funny.
Then Salem sighed, his emotions turning pensive.Do you think they will be like me?
Aurin knew Salem was apprehensive, scared even, that their babies might be targeted as Mimics, so he opted to bring up other traits.Do you mean caring, and open-minded, and smart, and loving? Then yes.
Salem’s colours shifted in lazy waves of shimmering blacks, affection and gratitude pooling through him.They would get that from you.He gently reached up and brushed the eggs, oxygenating them, and as he did, one tiny shape inside gave a sudden twitch, and both of them froze.
There, Salem breathed.Did you see that?
I saw it.
For a long moment, neither spoke. The sea outside murmured against the rocks, distant and endless, but inside the den, everything felt private and sacred.
Salem rested his forehead against Aurin’s.Four,he said quietly, almost in disbelief.We made four little lives.
Emotions rippled through Aurin, and he wasn’t sure where Salem’s love ended and his began.I think this one looks paler compared to the other three. Maybe it will look like me?
I hope so.
It’s fun to imagine, but you know it doesn’t matter, right? They’ll be a mix of us. And if one or four of them are Mimics like you, or gold like me, they’ll be ours, and we will love them.
Salem nodded and held Aurin a little tighter. Then he grinned and carefully wrapped one arm around Aurin’s waist while another hovered protectively near the eggs.They’ll be clever,he said.And curious.
And brave and stubborn.
That part is definitely from you.
Aurin snorted, sending a puff of bubbles upward. One of the eggs bobbed gently in the current, and both parents immediately reached to steady it at the same time.
Should we start thinking about names?Aurin mused.
I have already.
You have?
Salem nodded, blushing.I may have considered some... Though I’ve never named anything before. It’s quite the responsibility.
Tell me,Aurin tried.
I think we should wait and see. Perhaps after we meet them, a more suitable name will arise for each. Perhaps Breac won’t be suitable.
Breac...
Breac?Aurin asked, eyes wide with disbelief.Is that, like, ancient Gaelic?
Salem chuckled, as if it were a joke.Are you calling me old?
Aurin gave him a squeeze and nuzzled the side of his head.Of course not, my love.But he had to think.... He’d learned some old Gaelic because he’d wanted to learn about Salem’s past. Breac... Breac...Oh my god. Is that.... Do you.... You want to call one of our kids Spot?
Their eyes met, and then they dissolved into helpless laughter.
The eggs swayed peacefully between them in their tiny den, and the little family stayed there tangled together in the quiet sway of the cove, watching for every tiny movement from the children they already loved beyond measure.
SAWYER
Sawyer sat at his desk looking up at the “fixed” iron bars.
There’d been no sounds of machinery, no angle grinders, no saws, no anything to say they’d fixed them. And the “new” barsweren’t new at all. They were exactly the same as the old ones. They matched every bar in the cell. Iron bars that were almost two hundred years old. They were oxidised and aged, impossible to replace with anything close, let alone exact.
