I held little doubt we didn’t look completely ridiculous with his catcher’s mitt sized paw covering my head. “Alien face hugger, backwards attachment addition,” I joked.
The two darker haired women laughed, glanced at one another, and laughed again.
“I don’t get it,” the blonde woman mumbled.
“Even Rek get it and Rek not watch those movies no mores ‘cause they give Rek the night scares,” Rek grumbled, like he found the blonde’s lack of pop culture knowledge criminal, punishable by mocking.
“‘Ey! What this all? What goes on?” a new voice called out.
“Doogie, come! Meet Kehl’ Purr-roo! Bring you Orrellie!” Celuk called out. “She want see the babies!”
“Doodie-face show everyone him baby girl prinnedcess spoiled pants, all the times,” Rek muttered with an eye roll.
“Oh, shut it. Like you don’t do the same with our brood every chance you get and hog Orrie just as much,” Jo laughingly chastised.
Rek grinned. “My babies perfect, like they daddy. My Anie a prinnedcess. Orrie Rek’s sweet pudge face.”
That earned the male a round of ribbing about who was the handsomest daddy and most beloved uncle.
I didn’t hear most of it. The second I saw yet another Lo denaii round the corner, this one holding a more heavily wrapped bundle in his arms, a little arm wearing what looked to be a soft hide outfit peeking, not a furry bundle like I’d been expecting, consider me intrigued.
A soft “Oh” left me as this Doogie person brought his baby closer and I spied a fuzzy but much less so face. Doogie beamed proudly as he showed off his baby girl. “She not spoiled too much,” Doogie informed me, like I’d asked or something.
Tiny little pale fingers, a thinner dusting of hair than the males around us, she was much less hairy than the other babies but still not as lacking in fur as my Dad had been.
“Do some babies come out looking really human?” The second I blurted the question, I worried someone might take offense.
“Most babies look Lo denaii,” Doogie answered, not offended in the least.
“Only two look most like hoomans, sides some Go seesters, Luk know of, not look more Lo denaii,” Celuk said after a long moment.
“Was one of them, one of the two, named Garth?” I wondered aloud.
“Tabaroth. Auff. They leave. No come back,” Celuk rumbled out after a long moment.
“Oh.” There popped that hope balloon. Trying again, I ventured, “Have you ever met anyone named Garth? Or Forest, maybe? Sunny?”
“My Joalee?” someone called out.
“Here, Buu-bear!” Jo called back.
“What this here?” a rumbling voiced male called out.
“Mind you busy-ness, skunk butt! No want you here!” Rek called out, to the blonde woman’s grinning amusement. Everything with Rek appeared to be centered around Middle School humor.
“We’ve got a newcomer, Pepe,” Jo smirkingly replied.
“Eh?” Pepe the skunk butt called back.
Any confusion as to how he got that name was cleared with one look at the male. He was like a Lo denaii in size and shape, but there were these vibrant colorations to his pelt, namely two thick sections of greyish black, that explained the moniker. It was an unwanted moniker, if the scowl the male storming up had plastered to his face was anything to go by.
The blonde woman hunched and crouch-walked closer to Jo, like she was avoiding this Pepe guy.
I felt like I was dropped into the middle of some furry soap opera drama as I held onto Kehlor and my gaze ping-ponged about.
Pepe jumped into the madness but chose to converse with the males in that growl-speak. It made him easy to tune out.
Craning my neck, I spied the blonde weaving her way to the back of the crowd. She turned at the last moment, met my gaze as I turned my head and my hood slid down, exposing more of my face, and she paused. Her hands instantly went to the top of her head and she grabbed the beanie she was wearing.
