Gyda Lionrock thinks her visit to Asclan Peak is for one reason and one reason alone-to procreate and finally welcome that child of her own. She could have never guessed she would also leave something behind inside the mountains, but it was her hear...
I want to remind you of the notes on page one before reading this chapter, lol. At least, I warned you.
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Little Happ giggled and played with my hair. He pulled at the strands, and—well, that was basically all he did: pulling so hard that I felt my scalp burning. My braids were his favorites to fuck around with.
"He's quite the little sadist," I said, grinning back at him. "And strong too."
"He is, isn't he?" Ston beamed at the compliment.
"You can give him to me if you've had enough of him," Betsy said, busy folding laundry. "Or just smack his little hand. But not too hard, or I'll punch you in the face!"
I laughed, shaking my head. "It's fine, woman." If anything, I was proud the little bairn had such strength in that tiny fat body of his. When Happ yanked on my hair and tried to put it in his mouth, I intervened. "Okay, now, that's a little gross. I haven't washed my hair yet." There was probably still black dust in there from mining in Borba yesterday.
I needed to wash it quickly, though, because in about half an hour, I would head out to see Gyda.
"Don't let him get that in his mouth!" Betsy called out.
"I won't." I pulled my hair out of Happ's hands, then held the little booger in the air.
"Don't throw him!" Betsy shrieked.
"Gods, woman!" Ston chuckled. "Don't always worry so much. He didn't even throw him in the air and Happ clearly likes it. The commander isn't a dumbass. He won't drop the baby on his bloody head!"
"Well, I don't like it!"
"You're making a weakling out of him—"
"Am not, you stupid man."
Ston laughed out loud. "You are."
"I won't do it again," I interrupted, putting Happ back on my lap. "I wouldn't dare piss your mother off," I whispered to him.
Happ giggled, blowing bubbles from his mouth. His laughter was contagious.
"You're in a good mood," Ston said, looking at me.
"Ah, yes," Ston replied, wiggling his thick, bushy, black eyebrows. "The one day of the week that your seed isn't spilled into your hand but paints the walls of a creamy pussy instead."
Betsy scoffed. "Oh, bloody hell. Why do you have to be such a swine again?" she asked, throwing a cloth into Ston's face.
"What? It's true. I have not heard you complain about it," the man said before sniffing at the freshly washed fabric. "Damn. What is that scent?"
