What does Home mean?

Of ferrets and chaos.

Brent came home with Charlie.

They were chatting away, happily.

However...

"Brent." I say, mildly uncomfortable.

"Yes?"

"I need help."

He drops the branches he held in his arms and rushes to my side.

"What is it?" He asks.

The last thing that I remember was hearing a gunshot.

I wake up and look around.

Brent is sleeping, peacefully, as he holds me and I sigh.

No claw marks, no gashes, no shredded sheets.

I went back to sleep.

However, when I wake up again, I am feeling uncomfortable and smile.

Licking Brent's face, I wake him up.

"Mmm... g'morn'n." He mumbles.

"Are you ready to welcome your second child?" I ask.

"Yeah... tell him I said hellooowait!! What!?" He sits up and looks at me.

"I'm about to give birth." I say.

He flails out of bed, falling to the floor before he regains his composure.

He picks me up and carries me to the bathroom.

Almost as soon as he sets me into the tub, my water breaks.

He runs the bath water to my preference and takes my hand.

I smile, then wince a little as a contraction hits.

About forty minutes later, I push out the birth sack.

Another few minutes go by and I push out the afterbirth.

What's done with that should never be written or spoken of.

Let's just say that it's properly disposed of in accordance with nature and leave it at that.

Anyway, Brent carefully cut open the sack and we're both stunned to see newborn twins.

After we clean them up and dry them, their snowy white fur and hazel eyes are unmistakable.

"Charlie, after your mother." Brent says, holding the one with a black speck above his left eye.

He was nuzzling Brent's arm and he handed the tiny one to me.

As I fed him, Brent shudders.

"You alright?" I ask.

"You're going to name the other one..."

"Mikhail." We say together.

I look at him.

"Yes." I say and lay my head back.

Brent drains the tub and hands me a bottle of energy water, as he calls it.

Stuff's potent, too...

Only a little bit of caffeine, hardly any to really mention but, there are other ingredients.

He'd have to explain.

Anyway... what?

"Left or right uterine horn?" Brent asks.

"Oh, left." I say.

He puts a sanitized endoscope in to check and make sure there's nothing remaining and then sighs.