Sleepy eyes slowly blinked open, not quite focused yet. Egfor closed his eyes once more, letting out a soft sigh. Ever since he broke his arm, the man has had great difficulty sleeping since he sleeps on his left arm; he'll take whatever rest he can get. He found that rest came to him laying on a bear fur rug tucked in a quiet room in the Hammer and Harp, where the hearth was warm and the food and drink hearty- drink if he didn't promise Cesistya that he wouldn't drink.
Perhaps that, he mused, was the cause of his irritability lately. He rubs his cheek on the fur, slowly waking up and becoming more aware. His attention was brought to a small, warm bundle of fur nestled up under his chin. He reached a calloused but gentle hand up to move the pup slowly and carefully, retaining mobility of his head. He glances down, realizing he had 8 little pups curled up in a pile against his chest. Mama likely put them there and ran off to take a nap without the puppies while she could.
Egfor marveled at how tiny the infant animal was, curled up in a sleepy ball in his palm, eyes still shut and ears folded. He gently replaced it with its siblings. The man was aware of a warm weight in his thigh. He glanced down, making eye contact with Dunwine, the shepherd father of the puppies. Dunwine lay behind Egfor, pressed againt the man's back, his head using his thigh as a pillow. Dunwine's tail started gently sweeping the floor as his favourite Man noticed him and woke up. Egfor dropped a hand down, gently stroking Dunwine's head, the pair succumbing to slumber once more.
Egfor and his horse, named Elf, rode in at a walk into Snowbourn. The farmer was on a specific mission- to pick up his grain from the miller. Egfor halted Elf, the small cart in tow clattered to an unceremonious stop. He swore he heard something. He sat there in silence, listening for it and watching Elf's ears.
Elf's head suddenly swiveled towards a bush, and then Egfor heard the noise: a tiny high pitched whine. The man dismounted quickly, going over to investigate the noise. He drops down to his knees, crawling into the bush. He came nose to nose with a little shepherd puppy, a dark furred baby with terrified brown eyes. Egfor's expression softened. He gently took up the crying pup and crawled out.
He cradled it to his chest, looking around for its owners or mother. Finding nothing, he carefully looked the poor animal over; it was a very small and underfed male pup, likely the runt of the litter. Egfor kisses the top of its head, murmuring, "Think I'll call you Dunwine." He unfastened his coat and tucked rhe pup safely away before mounting back up.
