They laughed when dad carried me in here and I don't know why, I hate it when they laugh laughter hurts too dignified for laughter, lift my tail high and my head higher better than them they'll know that if they just look at me better than them they aren't laughing now, are they, aren't laughing at me?

"How old is he?"

"Five weeks when he died."

"Poor creature isn't even weaned, is he?"

They're talking about something, I can tell when they're talking, it sounds like singing but not bird-singing like human singing like that machine the lady who put me outside would sing. There's a woman there who smells soft like some kind of safe animal I'm not sure what and she rubs her fingers behind my ears yes that spot yes, rolling around on dad's flattened wing so she can get my belly oh she's good, she's good at rubbing bellies, just hard enough, just soft enough, I lick her knuckle, she tastes nice, she tastes like momma milk, she tastes nice.

"Will you be keeping him then, Dominic?"

Dad hesitates, I hear it, tilt my head up to look at him, why is he hesitating in the conversation, did she say something uncomfortable she doesn't seem the type to say something uncomfortable, not with her fingers so warm and soft.

"I have duties."

"He loves you."

Dad's snout butts the top of my head gently and I close my eyes, purr, nuzzle, scent him, he's mine, he's mine, and it's okay, he's okay, whatever he was worried about before is gone now, he's mine.

"Yes," Dad says, and wraps me in his cloak to sleep.