18. Family
When Willow saw that Varhog had finally stopped eating, she asked, "What comes next, Yelloweyes? Can I meet the rest of your family?"
"Yes, Eartheyes, if that's what you want to do. Many contests will now begin and, with your fame, I expect many will want you to participate. They'll also welcome the chance to fight Firesword, Murtagh, Arya, or even you, Mooneater. Your reputation is no small thing around here."
Angela's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Which is as it should be, young man."
"Well, then. My family?" Varhog asked.
Willow nodded excitedly. "I got to meet Varhog's mother," she told everyone else. "And even better, I get to call her 'mother.' Isn't that wonderful? She's wonderful too. And he has seven siblings! I met the three youngest on the walk to the village. Here let me review the others' names once more before we go meet them. Yarbog, Myrin, Naynuk, and Bruntog. How did I do?"
"Perfectly, Eartheyes," Varhog approved.
Willow then said, "And Varhog has twelve nieces and nephews, with two more on the way. Can you believe it? One of his sisters is supposed to have another cub—her fourth—any day." She giggled. "It still feels funny to say 'cub.' I keep imagining a little bear cub." As a thought struck her, she added, "What's the birth of a child like among the Urgralgra? Would I be allowed to be present?"
Varhog couldn't keep himself from chuckling when Willow mentioned a bear cub, but after her last question, the lightness became more subdued.
"It would be up to Myrin," Varhog said. "The birth of a baby here is as special as anywhere. Most of the females in the woman's family would be invited, if the mother wished it. And the baby's sire of course. Some families have a large gathering for a birth, others simply have the couple."
Willow nodded her understanding and made a silent resolve, which Varhog must have seen on her face.
"What are you thinking, Eartheyes?" Varhog asked.
"Only that I'll do my best to get Myrin to like me to increase my chances of being invited," Willow said. "I long to see what that would be like. My only memories are of when my mother gave birth to my brother, and that was horrifying. But I refuse to believe that's what it's meant to be like."
Arya said, "The birth of a child should be the crowning event of happiness and creative power in a woman's life. I've had this discussion with Eragon, though I did most of the talking, I suppose. Whenever the time comes for you to have a child, Willow, you won't have the same experience as your mother. I'll help you prepare."
"Thank you, Arya," Willow said, brightening again as she expectantly took Varhog's hand. "So many brothers and sisters now. I married a whole family! Let's go meet them, Varhog. And you all must come too!"
Varhog smiled and began walking toward a table near the outer edge of the square. The others took their time to get to their feet and follow behind.
It was then about midafternoon, for the fighting and feasting had filled the first part of the day. As they drew nearer the table, Willow recognized Varhog's mother at the head, with Yarbog at her right. When his family noticed Willow and Varhog heading toward them, all conversation ceased and all eyes turned to them.
Varhog smiled at everyone, which took some of his siblings by surprise, Willow could see. He stopped by his mother's side and said in Urgralish, while also translating his words in Willow's mind, "Greetings, my family. It has been many years and our numbers have swelled to more than double what they were when I left here nine years ago. I'm sorry I've never returned for a visit until now and that I didn't come see you before eating. Much has happened since we arrived and, as some of you know, I have been most occupied. But now I'm here. My new mate was very excited to meet you, so I've brought her. This is Willow."
Willow waved with her free hand as she looked around at the Urgals. It was fairly obvious which ones were Varhog's siblings and which were their mates. The children were all sitting together at the far end of the table, except for the youngest ones who couldn't sit on their own on a bench yet, and those were in the arms of either their mother or father.
Remembering what Varhog had said about his family speaking the common tongue, Willow eagerly said, "Hello! I have long envied Varhog his large family and when I learned you would be almost like my own, I was overcome with happiness. My father, mother, and brother have all died, and my only family since then has been with the Riders, but I'm delighted to be a part of yours." She looked at Varhog. "Can I try to guess?" she asked.
"As you wish, Eartheyes."
"Varhog taught me your names," Willow explained. "At least, those of his siblings by birth. I want to see if I can guess who the rest of you are, since I've already been able to meet several of you." She started with Yarbog. "We've already met, Yarbog. I'm sorry about what I had to do."
Yarbog shrugged. "It wasn't the first time I've been bested by a human. Firesword's cousin, Stronghammer, also once forced me into submission. It's a humiliation beyond compare, but I left you little choice. Forgive me, brother, for doubting your sanity and questioning your choice in a mate."
Varhog nodded. "I do, Yarbog."
Willow's eyes met those of the female next to Yarbog's side. She held a small child in her lap who nursed at her breast. Willow noticed with interest, having never before observed a woman feeding her child like this. Then she said, "You must be Yarbog's mate. I'm sorry I don't know your name."
The woman said, "I'm Kiengah. This is our youngest cub, and the other four are at the end."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kiengah," Willow sincerely said. There could be no doubt that the female next to Kiengah was Myrin. Her swollen abdomen pushed against the table in front of her, the baby inside nearly ready to be born. "And you must be Myrin," Willow said. "Mother told us your baby is due any day. Congratulations! That's so wonderful."
Myrin's eyebrows spiked as Willow said "mother," but she displayed no other sign of surprise. "You're right. I'm Myrin, Varhog's closest sister."
Myrin hadn't been with the crowd who had gone to greet the Riders, so she hadn't witnessed Willow's abilities. Though Willow sensed that Myrin was trying to behave cordially—perhaps those who had been present had tried to persuade her of Willow's worth—Willow could clearly see that Myrin was upset, and she wasn't extremely surprised after how Trayin had acted, especially since Varhog had told her he and Myrin were so close. To discover that her beloved older brother had returned for the first time in nine years intending to take a human as a mate and then to watch him marry that human without even acknowledging her must have been more than Myrin could accept.
Myrin addressed Varhog in a biting tone. "Nice of you to return for a visit, brother. And with a new mate, no less. Some news of this would have been welcome." The ram by her side shifted slightly, and Willow thought she recognized him as one of the many Varhog had defeated. He had seen Willow triumph, and Willow suspected his mate's cold manner made him uncomfortable since he felt a sense of loyalty to Willow as his rightful war chief.
Varhog scowled at Myrin's manner, but he left Willow's side to walk around the table. By the time he reached her, his face was kind and understanding. He knelt behind the bench where she sat, taking her hand and gently asking, "Why are you so angry, Myrin?"
Her demeanor immediately changed, and Myrin turned so she could face him. Tears welled up in her eyes as she put her arms around him, leaning over her ponderous belly.
"Because I missed you, Varhog. You've been gone nine years, and mother rarely heard from you. I only got to speak with you on a handful of occasions. I took a mate and had three children but could never share my happiness with the brother I love best. Why couldn't you come see us?"
Varhog stroked her back in a gesture that Willow recognized from the times he had done the same with her. "Forgive me, Myrin. It was thoughtless of me. I have nothing to say for myself. I could have come after four years on the Isle, but . . . Willow. I didn't want to leave her there."
Myrin stiffened and slowly sat back. "So it was Willow. Your new mate. She's more important to you than your own mother, your family? A human, Varhog? What are you thinking?" she accusingly demanded.
Varhog softly replied, "She's more important to me than anyone else, Myrin, which is as it should be with one's mate. But I don't love you any less. Nor mother. You know me better than anyone save mother. You know I wouldn't give my heart foolishly. I never would have considered marrying a human before I met Willow. You know that. I felt as you do. But she's so different. You won't believe me, and I don't blame you. You must see for yourself. She's worthy of me, Myrin. Please give her a chance." He looked at her pleadingly.
Myrin said nothing, regarding him stonily, so Varhog continued, "She's so excited to be part of our family. As impossible as it must seem to you, she loves me and is my dearest friend. She accepted me immediately, Myrin. She never judged me for being an Urgal before getting to know me, as you are now judging her for being a human. Willow fought according to Urgralish custom to prove she was worthy of me so she wouldn't come between me and my people. Don't force her to come between me and my favorite sister. Forgive me for neglecting you here. Let me make it up to you now. I long to meet your children and be an uncle to them." He paused once again, and his words finally seemed to take effect.
Myrin sighed and shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under the weight in her lap. "Very well, Varhog." She hugged him again. "I missed you so much. Before I married Tarhvek, I was so lonely without your company. I'm excited to hear of all your adventures as a Dragon Rider. The children are desperate to meet you and Black Thunder. I'm glad you'll get to be here when this baby is born. You will, right?"
"I will," Varhog promised, returning her embrace before standing and walking back to Willow's side.
Willow had remained very still and quiet throughout the exchange. She was troubled by Myrin's reaction to her, though Myrintuk had given her some warning it might be unfavorable. She whispered, "I'm so sorry, Myrin. I don't know what else to say. I hope we can be friends in time." Then before her eyes had a chance to tear up—why was she so emotional today?—she moved them to Myrin's mate.
"I just heard her say 'Tarhvek.' Is that right?"
The ram nodded and stood, bashing his fists against his forehead in an abrupt manner that startled Myrin. "That's right, Nar Willow. I'm Tarhvek, one of the fighting rams of the Bolvek tribe. You declined your rightful position as war chief, but I would follow you into battle."
Willow smiled faintly, still subdued by Myrin's reception. "I hope I never have to lead anyone into battle, but if I did, I'd be a lot more confident with several hundred Urgal rams behind me."
Tarhvek's mouth twitched in amusement, something he was determined to suppress in Willow's presence, but she noticed and laughed quietly.
"I'm sorry," Willow said. "The thought is so ridiculous to me that I just can't help it. You may sit," she finished in a commanding tone, followed by silly giggle.
Tarhvek sat, allowing himself to smile as Yarbog and Varhog both chuckled. Myrin glanced at her mate in irritation, and he shrugged when he noticed.
"She defeated Nar Garzhvog in single combat, Myrin," he said. "After she had already brought down Varhog and Yarbog. And this was after Varhog had just singlehandedly forced every ram who stood against him, including me, into submission. It was unbelievable. And Garzhvog would have died if she hadn't healed him. I can't help but admire that."
At this news, for apparently none had shared all of that, Myrin looked back at Willow with shock in her eyes. "You nearly killed Nar Garzhvog?" she demanded, and Willow nodded. "I find that hard to believe, as you say, Tarhvek." Her skepticism was undeniable.
Varhog said, "I can show you, Myrin. If you don't object, I'll play the images from my memories and the memories of those who shared them with me after I was unconscious. You'll see them within your mind. You can see for yourself what Willow accomplished. Perhaps it will help you think better of her. What do you say?"
Myrin looked confused. "How would that work?"
"Our dragons can communicate telepathically with us as soon as the bond is formed. You remember me trying to describe it while Black Thunder was still a hatchling, right?" Myrin nodded. "He even tried to communicate that way with you. But that was long ago. Anyway, we can communicate with our minds in thoughts and images as Dragon Riders. However, we don't do it with anyone whenever we want, since it would be disrespectful. That's why I'm asking permission. You wouldn't do anything but sit there while I show you my memories."
Myrin nodded, and Varhog asked, "Would anyone else like to see this while I'm at it?"
All of the adults and several of the oldest children also nodded, so Varhog began replaying the images from the time he held Nar Garzhvog to the ground and asked the Herndall if they would approve his union with Willow if she could defeat him. He also included Willow, and she focused on Myrin.
Myrin's eyes were distant, her look of skepticism slowly dissolving as she watched Willow effortlessly dodge Varhog's attacks, which he was reliving from his own memories. She gasped as Willow finally jumped on his back, cringing at the pain Varhog felt as he slid toward unconsciousness. Tears filled her eyes as Varhog thought his final plea to Willow and told her he loved her, but she impatiently brushed them away, though there was no doubting the absolute sincerity of his words.
Varhog's memories shifted, taking on a different tone as Yarbog came forward to face Willow, since he was now replaying the memories Arya had shared with him. Willow allowed her eyes to move to Yarbog so she could see what he thought of this. He looked mortified but accepting. Kiengah smirked at Willow's mocking smile and taunting dare, shaking her head as she watched her mate succumb to Willow's stranglehold and sympathetically placing a hand on Yarbog's leg.
Willow looked back at Myrin, whose face had assumed an expression of reluctant admiration. No Urgal could witness another being bring down one of their rams without feeling some kind of approval.
As Garzhvog stepped forward to face Willow, Myrin tensed. He was so huge and powerful, even Willow now balked to see him like this, since she wasn't in her emotionless fighting mind. Myrin gasped in shock as Willow dove under Garzhvog's legs, leaped on her two brothers, and shouted as she sprang the eight and a half feet up to her uncle's back. Arya had noticed how her hair flew out, making her seem majestic and terrible, yet also undeniably feminine.
Everyone at the table was rapt during Willow's struggle to subdue Garzhvog. He remained upright and moving for over five minutes, wrenching around wildly, and yet Willow stayed firmly curled in her position on his back. When Garzhvog fell to his knees, everything that came after happened so quickly. Willow truly was amazed by how she had been able to identify his threat and execute her evasion in under two seconds. Myrin actually cried out as Garzhvog crushed his own throat and Willow arched gracefully through the air to land on her back, rolling to the side less than a second later as Garzhvog came crashing down and springing to her feet to dash toward Eragon.
Arya had taken note of Willow's fierce determination as she drew Brisingr and sprinted back to the convulsing Kull. Myrin clenched the table in front of her as Willow screamed her final defiant challenge with the tip of a sword pressed to the throat of her foe. Her tension relaxed as Willow dropped and healed Garzhvog's injury. Arya had captured her look of intense concern, which made it obvious that Willow didn't wish Garzhvog to come to harm. When her job of healing was done and Willow apologized to Garzhvog, Myrin's eyes once again filled with tears. Then Willow stood and moved over to Varhog's side.
Willow still had her eyes on Myrin, and she focused intently for this next part, for this was where she clearly demonstrated her love for Varhog, and she wanted Myrin to understand that. The tears spilled out of Myrin's eyes as Willow lay her cheek against Varhog's back and wept, which minor detail Arya had detected.
When Varhog stirred and regained consciousness, he resumed sharing his own memories, which started with Willow's tired declaration that she had triumphed and they could be together. For Myrin's sake, Varhog emphasized Willow's remark that they need no longer fear the displeasure of his clan, followed by his effort to express his feelings and Willow's laugh and relieved embrace.
Willow continued to observe Myrin's face as she witnessed Varhog's adoring love when he wrapped her tightly in his arms and Willow's tears as she cried on his shoulder. There was no denying how much Willow loved him. And it was also perfectly clear—since these were Varhog's thoughts—that he loved Willow enough to willingly die for her.
Myrin listened to the member of the Herndall give her blessing and stirring apology, which seemed personally directed at Myrin, and to Varhog's acceptance and forgiveness. The last thing Varhog shared before ending his memories was when he thanked Willow and her reply, "You're worth it."
Then Varhog's mental replay was over and everyone came back to the present, blinking or rubbing their eyes as if awakening from a dream and as silent as those present had been after the real events had concluded several hours earlier.
With tears still streaming down her face, Myrin finally broke the silence. "Forgive me, Varhog. I should never have doubted. That was the most incredible thing I have ever seen. That she was willing to do that for you is everlasting proof of her love and claim to you as her mate." She humbly addressed Willow. "I can see that you love my brother even more than I do. Forgive me for my hostility. You are my sister." Willow only nodded, too overcome for words.
The rest of the greetings went quickly, since Willow had already met the three youngest. The siblings were sitting in birth order down one side and around the other, so she met Naynuk and her mate next, followed by Bruntog and his mate, who was also expecting. They were both Kull, and their heads were higher than all those around them. Those who had still harbored any doubts about Varhog's choice immediately accepted Willow after seeing his memories of the fight.
After Willow finished meeting Varhog's family, Varhog turned and introduced the other Dragon Riders, who had gathered around the table. When the introductions between the adults were finished and casual conversation was picking back up, Varhog pulled Willow down to the end where the children were. They had remained impressively still and quiet for the long, dull exchange of adult greetings and niceties, but they were starting to fidget, as young children inevitably must.
Varhog squatted at the end of the table opposite his mother, folding his forearms on the tabletop. He grinned and leaned toward the young ones while saying, "I'm your Uncle Varhog. This is my mate, Willow, which makes her your aunt. We're so excited to meet you and show you our dragons. Would you like that?"
Their shyness at being addressed by one they had been taught to honor as highly as the Herndall and their war chief gave way at that irresistible invitation. They nodded excitedly, and one small girl clapped her hands. They began chattering in Urgralish, and as often seems to be the case, the language sounded much more musical and lilting in the high tones of a child's voice than in the deep tones of the adults.
"We'll call them with our minds to come see us now, but until they do, tell me your names," Varhog invited. "You have behaved admirably this long while, and I can see you wish to be moving." He stood only long enough to back up a few paces, then he knelt on the ground and waited, motioning for Willow to kneel next to him. She did, close enough that their sides and legs were touching.
That was enough to bring the children running. They were as curious and unafraid of Willow, different though she was, as Willow herself had been of Varhog on first meeting him. They swarmed around her, and two of the small girls sat right down in her lap, stroking Willow's face, hair, and especially her forehead, where no horns grew. Willow laughed in delight and hugged them.
She turned to Varhog and, taking care to convey her immediate affection for the children, thought, Is this how it was for you? When we met? These small ones have accepted me more easily than any of the others.
Varhog replied, Aye, very similar. That's a good way to put it. Your wonder and curiosity were so pure and innocent. Childlike, even as theirs.
The small lad sitting in Bruntog's lap began to squirm, seeing all his cousins free and moving. His father let him down and he toddled over, nearly stumbling over a stone buried in the dirt. When he reached Willow, he hopefully extended his arms, giving her a smile of such pure joy that her breath caught and tears came to her eyes. He was still growing in teeth and there were spaces showing in his toothless grin. The two little girls had wriggled off her lap moments before, so Willow pulled the little boy into her arms, loving the feel of his soft hair against her cheek and feeling a deep ache of longing to have a child of her own.
Two boys, maybe four and two, now sat on Varhog's lap, and two of the older girls were behind Willow, plaiting her hair and giggling cheerfully. The tallest male cousin hung back from the swarm of younger children.
Varhog noticed the boy and kindly addressed him. "You're the spitting image of my older brother, Yarbog, when he was young. What's your name?"
The lad proudly replied, "Yarbog. He's my sire."
"And how old are you, Yarbog?" Varhog asked.
"Eight, sir," the boy formally answered.
Varhog laughed. "Please, call me uncle."
Just at that moment, the two girls behind Willow came darting around the small clump of children in a game of chase. The younger tripped and fell into the older, making her stumble into young Yarbog. He turned with a look of irritation, preparing to shove her away.
Varhog gently caught his arm to keep him from hitting the girl and, at the same time, reached around Yarbog with his other hand to catch his niece. Once she had regained her balance, Varhog released them both.
With a look of gentle admonition in his eyes he said to Yarbog, "You must respect your female cousins, Yarbog, above all others."
"But why?" the boy petulantly asked.
"When you respect a female, you honor her ability to give life to the world and happiness to all around her," Varhog earnestly replied.
His wisdom was lost on the young lad, who stared at him blankly. So Varhog tried another angle. "If you respect females, as is their right, you'll one day win yourself a kind and beautiful mate."
This seemed more at the boy's comprehension level, but he was not fully convinced, for he said, "But father has never insisted I respect females and he has a kind and beautiful mate."
Varhog's eyes twinkled. "Aye, that is true. Your mother is indeed lovely and caring. But can she defeat your sire in single combat?"
The boy was caught, and he realized it. Smiling slightly, he said, "No, uncle."
"Well, there you have it. As you have seen," for young Yarbog had witnessed Varhog's memories while he shared them, "my mate is capable of such a thing, and I won her through many long years of friendship, loyalty, and above all, respect. But I needn't be so hard on my brother. The fact that you view your mother as kind and beautiful indicates that he has at least taught you through his behavior to her how you ought to regard females, and that's an important start. If you learn nothing else from your Uncle Varhog, let it be this, young Yarbog." The boy nodded.
The two small boys in Varhog's lap began butting their hornless heads into his muscular chest, attempting to bowl him over as they so often witnessed their older counterparts do when scuffling about. Varhog made a sound of mock dismay, falling back in an exaggerated manner and pretending defeat. When he hit the ground, he groaned and said, "You have bested the great Dragon Rider Varhog. Now we'll recognize you as our new war chiefs."
The boys shrieked in delight over their conquest, springing up to prance about on Varhog's wide chest, which didn't seem to cause him the slightest discomfort.
Right then, Black Thunder and Sunset soared into view over the trees, and Sunset descended to land through the opening over the village square while the children let out a collective squeal of terror and wonder. Varhog sprang up from his back with the boys trapped in his arms and began stomping about, making playful grunting noises. They squirmed about and giggled as he tickled them.
"The black one there is my dragon," Varhog said, letting the small boys down. "He's big and strong like me. But see the pink-orange one? She's Willow's dragon. Isn't she beautiful, just like her Rider?" The children nodded rapturously.
The other Riders made their way over to where Varhog and Willow were interacting with the children and observed Varhog with mild surprise but mostly affectionate merriment. Arya, in particular, appeared most affected by the sweet openness of the children. She rubbed her womb as she leaned against Eragon, as if anticipating the day when she would enjoy such displays from her child.
Black Thunder landed after Sunset, and Varhog and Willow guided the children over to them, both holding a child's hand in each of their own. Sunset seemed just as happy at the sight of all the children as Willow. She lay down on her belly with her forelegs straight in front of her, stretching her neck flat on the ground so she could rest her head in front of the children.
Let them come over, sunshine, she entreated Willow.
Willow said to the children, "My dragon wants to meet you. Shall we?" They all indicated their excitement, whether by clapping, jumping up and down, or crying out. They walked with Willow to Sunset and stood in awe in front of the magnificent creature as Willow introduced, "This is my dragon, Sunset. You may pet her, but mind her sharp scales. See, if you run your hand this way, they won't hurt you, but the other way will leave you with a cut. Right here between her eyes is smoother. And so is her belly under her wings. She says you may play there if you like, and you may climb all about on her so long as you're careful. You cannot hurt her, she only wants you to be safe."
Sunset carefully opened her wide wings and held them up invitingly. The children parted around her head, half dashing under one wing while the rest darted to the other. They pressed themselves against her smooth, warm belly, exclaiming in delight as Sunset hummed her approval.
Willow held Bruntog's son in her arms, and he curiously reached toward Sunset, so Willow knelt in front of Sunset's snout, placing the boy over Sunset's nose as if he were riding a horse. The small child, who was not yet one and a half, leaned down and hugged his arms around Sunset, resting his small cheek on the bridge between her eyes. Then he sat up and happily patted her, clapping his hands together in innocent enjoyment.
The adults in Varhog's family came over, as well as many of the other villagers. All who were alive and old enough remembered Black Thunder from years before when he had grown as a hatchling among them, but he was far, far bigger now. He sat with his neck proudly arched as they all admired him with Varhog.
"Come, old friend," Varhog insisted. "Let them have a closer look at you. You're the reason I left so long ago, and they must see why."
Black Thunder relented and dipped his head down. He regarded the Urgals with fatherly kindness in his great black eyes, a sentiment Willow had rarely seen there. She guessed the black dragon was glad to meet many more like Varhog, whom he had always referred to as "my son." Black Thunder let them touch him, and after a moment, Varhog asked those surrounding him if Black Thunder could address them mentally.
They all nodded, jumping somewhat as Black Thunder's deep voice filled their minds in Urgralish, for the dragon was as well-versed as Varhog in all the languages Varhog had studied. Greetings, people and family of my Rider. I have sensed through my link with Varhog that some have resented his long absence, and I apologize for taking him from your midst. I chose this proud ram as my Rider, sensing his great worth and potential. He preferred to be solitary and withdrawn, which I knew would be important for his future time with the other Riders. But more than that, he is wise, noble, compassionate, strong, and has a great thirst for knowledge. His growth as a Rider has been immensely gratifying. I hope you are as proud of him as I am.
Black Thunder ended his message, and those who heard it had looks of wonder on their faces. Varhog placed his hand on Black Thunder's foreleg with gratitude in his eyes, and Willow knew they must have conversed with one another several times throughout the exchange. The dragon swung his head around, touching the tip of his snout to Varhog's forehead.
When Varhog had composed himself, he asked, "Would any of my nieces or nephews, or any of the rest of you, like to ride Black Thunder with me?" His words were met with many nods of anticipation.
Willow added, "Or Sunset with me?"
Breetuk hopefully stepped forward. "May I?" she asked.
"Of course!" Willow said. "And how about we take you too, Myrek?" Myrek was the oldest female grandchild—Myrin and Tarhvek's daughter—whose name Willow had learned while they sat on the ground. The girl had run to Willow's side after hearing her offer to take someone for a ride, and Willow looked over at Myrin, who was leaning against her mate with her hands resting on the shelf of her belly. "But only if your mother approves," Willow amended, a questioning look in her eyes.
Myrin smiled and said, "She'll be safe, won't she?" Willow nodded solemnly, so Myrin finished, "Then she may go, but only if I can go next. Perhaps flying on a dragon will get this baby to come."
Willow laughed. "I would be delighted to take you." She turned to help Breetuk and Myrek up into the saddle, securing some of the saddle straps around each of their legs. She noticed Varhog helping his brother Yarbog and young Yarbog into Black Thunder's saddle in a similar manner, and she felt a surge of love as she watched him. Meeting his family and the children had given her a glimpse into the true character of her new mate as no other experience before. Even though she was enjoying this time so much, Willow longed to be alone with Varhog so they could begin their own family.
A thought suddenly struck her. She remembered the conversation she and Arya had in the royal gardens four days earlier. Willow realized she was in that very phase of fertility that might lead to the conception of a child if an intimate relationship with a male occurred, which explained why her longing for Varhog had been so strong the past several days, starting not long after that discussion with Arya. Willow's body must have just been entering the window of fertility, creating within her the desire to join with the one she had chosen as her mate so the drive to reproduce would be satisfied.
Willow then felt even more impatient to be with Varhog so they could take advantage of this time. She realized he had also acted differently the last few days, as if he was aware on some level of the changes in herself and felt a more instinctive draw to her as a result. From what Willow had observed of animals during her times of meditation, it was the same pattern that led to mating in the wild.
Willow tried to push the thoughts from her mind, knowing the time was still not right but hoping nonetheless that the next several hours wouldn't mark the end of her fertility.
Varhog must have sensed her stare on his back, for he turned to look at her. Soon, Eartheyes, he comforted, recognizing her expression of desire.
Willow swallowed and nodded, unconsciously placing a hand over her stomach as it clenched in response to the sound of his voice in her mind.
Varhog grimaced as the tone of her thoughts reached him. You're making me crazy, Eartheyes! How is it possible that you want me as much as I want you?
Because you're powerful and handsome and my mate! And you're amazing with these children. It's not surprising, I suppose. I've just never seen you like this and it makes me desperate to be with you so we can make one of our own. We need to stop thinking about this! Willow demanded, abruptly closing her mind and climbing into the saddle with her eyes forward.
But just as Sunset was preparing to take off, she risked another quick peek at Varhog. He was doing the same, and their eyes met. She smiled and thought, Love you, Yelloweyes, before looking away, though she felt him smile in return.