Langga opened the door separating him from his children. His eyes widened when he saw three babies sitting in their individual cribs, happily playing.
Their giggles, their smiles, the soft round cheeks and clear, bright eyes— everything burned itself into Langga's mind.
Without realizing it, his feet carried him forward.
"Cciitt! Ccitt! Ccitt!"
He snapped back to awareness at the chorus of angry squeaks.
In each crib sat a white squirrel. And another one, clearly the boss, stood on a small table between two of the cribs, little paws on its hips as it glared at him.
Langga didn't understand squirrel language, but he was pretty sure they weren't pleased with his presence.
"Wait— calm down. I'm…" He clamped his mouth shut.
Because the babies were staring at him now, too— three pairs of confused little eyes. Panic hit him like a wave. If they cried now, it would be a disaster.
Everyone was busy helping Gara give birth. The last thing he wanted was to cause trouble.
