It was her first full night sharing a bedroll with her new… evening companion. So, when a great hot huff of air blew across her neck and the pitiful whinging started in earnest, she could be forgiven for reaching down to scratch the great fuzzy belly that normally curled so close to her in sleep.
"Mmm s'nice…" She jerked awake, not expecting more of a response than a wet lick or maybe a contented grumble. Then she noticed that the belly under her hand was not quite so big or so fuzzy as usual.
She kept rubbing her fingers through the fuzz she had found, enjoying the pleased little murmurs her attentions were producing. Then the whinging that had roused her piped up again, outside the tent flap.
She sat up a little— just visible through the canvas wall, backlit by the fire, there was a great, hulking shadow. The shadow gently scratched against the tent, whimpering plaintively. She glanced around the dark interior, mentally measuring.
"Alistair." She scraped her blunt nails down his side, stretching up to talk against his ear. "Alistair, the dog wants in."
"Mphm. Mrrr." She couldn't help grinning against his shoulder.
"Of course, love." The dog scratched again, harder this time after having heard her voice. "But he's crying, and you're in his spot."
"Nuh-uh. I'm'n my spot." The words were still very slurred, but at least they were actual words. "He was just… keeping it warm f'me."
"Sweet man." She kissed his chin, then slipped out of his arms.
"Heeeeeeey—" She glanced back at his pitiful form, still half asleep and grasping at air and empty blankets, as she untied the tent flap. The dog nuzzled her face enthusiastically, but quietly slipped inside when she shushed him. He flopped down against one side of the tent, leaving a sliver of bedroll between his back and Alistair's front. She sighed and squeezed in between her two boys. Alistair snuffled at her hair, gripping her tight against him.
"There," she murmured, shifting her hip a bit. "Everybody's happy."
The sun was just rising when she was awoken again, this time by a different kind of whinging.
"I'm squished." Alistair twisted his back, disturbing her further. "Who let that great lummox in here?"
"Mmm. The dog asked me the same thing." She tried to stretch, then stopped when her shoulder twinged sharply.
"Oh, you're funny." Sometime during the night, the dog had managed to push both his tent mates over into their own crowded corner, leaving more than enough room for him to splay out. "Can you wake him up?"
"I can try." Carefully, because he was a war hound after all, she reached out and stroked one massive shoulder. "Good morning, sleepy puppy. Who's my sweet boy?" The dog groaned, and his stub of a tail started thumping. "That's right, sleepy puppy. You're such a handsome boy. Why don't you go try and hunt down some breakfast, huh? I think someone might have left you a pot of leftover stew." She scratched his ears. "I'll be up in a little while. You be a good boy."
Groaning again, the dog rolled to his feet and crawled out of the tent without further discussion. With a few relieved sounds of his own, Alistair shifted them both back into the centre of the bedroll. Then, after a colossal stretch, he leaned in to kiss her neck.
"Good morning, sleep puppy," she said, gasping when his broad hand slid over her stomach.
"Good morning, my lady. Am I a good and handsome boy?"
"Definitely handsome. Good, I think, only if you don't stop." She tilted her head and caught his mouth in a warm, languid kiss. He returned it eagerly, then pulled away to pepper her jaw and throat with smaller pecks. She could feel his smile, and her stomach tingled with the thought that she'd unleashed a monster. A sexy, enthusiastic monster.
He kissed just below her ear. "I will strive to be good, then."