Screw the taboo. Little One has enhanced us; there's no way a child from our union could ever be born with the slightest thing wrong with him or her; ...o why not? Besides, she's had a hard few years. She insists on this, and her mother is pleased. Like Brenda said, now we don't have to worry about Angel leaving us. We can all be together forever.There was sweat on Angel's brow as she met her father thrust for thrust. He leaned to suckle a nipple, but had to give up after a moment. She rubbed her. Bluemantle shook his head. “Harold Godwinson was part Danish.”He perused me for a moment. “I note you are typically Anglo Saxon in colouring and physique, but where in England were you born?”At my reply ‘Lincolnshire, he gave a self-satisfied nod.“As I suspected. Your ancestors lived in the Danelaw, which means you too will have a measure of Danish blood in your veins, as do most of us English. Harold could in fact be called the first and last English King.”“Do get on with it Bluemantle,”. ..”She went back to her breakfast, occasionally glancing up at the other Borealans as she chewed. Was that expression resentment? Longing? It was hard to tell. I had underestimated how hard being excommunicated from her pack had hit her, she was sulking, despondent. I might feel the same way if I had suddenly found myself alone in an unfamiliar environment, with no support structure of any kind. Social bonds seemed to be central to Borealan life, perhaps she was like a wolf without a pack. And I could see that her right breast was out of the bra and was being cradled in her two hands.For a second I thought I had simply caught a "snapshot" moment of her just easing her breast into the cup of a new bra she was trying on. But as I watched, I realised that she was actually having a "private moment" with her own breast, squeezing it, caressing it, and generally playing with her nipple. Eventually her right hand slid down across her bare tummy, over her thigh and up and under her.