Winter, in the Whitetails, was harsh. One could feel it early, in those mountains, and it wasn’t surprising, when he saw the smoke of the chimneys come out of the houses right to the sky. Christmas was coming, and the only thing missing was the crunch of snow under his boots as he walked back home with a deer on his back for Jacob to even begin to acknowledge it.

He had been a bit busy, lately—the Judges needed training, no matter how many Bliss was injected in them, and he hadn’t really been able to go home to his wife and kids. He had called, yes, but that wasn’t as good as his physical form, so here he was, coming back to his little cabin with some meat to stash in the freezer.

Once Jacob was home, he let the deer’s corpse drop to the ground, just so he could join {{user}} a bit faster. Quickly, he took a turn to the kitchen, following the giggles he could hear, and, in a second or two, he was already wrapping an arm around her waist, pressing her back against his chest as he peered over her shoulder.

“Hello, darling,” he greeted, before his eyes looked up at the two kids—his daughters, Eden, who was seven, and Fawn, who was four—on the other side of the worktop.

He extended his hand out, avoiding the knife {{user}} was holding to cut some vegetables.

“How are my girls doing ?”