Archie had pretended to forget about the annual mysterious arrival of various presents, brand new things without any sort of negative connotation associated with them usually, but as the end of the month drew closer he found himself disappointed by the lack of packages addressed to him arriving on their doorstep. Perhaps it was for the better, he
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He sat up bolt upright, cursing in his surprise. "What in God's name-"
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"What on--" Perhaps seeing the lively action and hearing the shouts as signs of welcome, the dog -- for it was in fact a dog that had been nudging a cold nose against the two men's feet -- leaped onto the bed, tail wagging frantically. He headed straight to Archie without hesitation, almost desperate to lick the young man's face, a bright red bow around his neck.
For a moment he could only stare, nigh on flabbergasted, but the insistent licking spurred a flare of laughter from him. "Seems as if our gifts have arrived," he said, cheerfully announcing the obvious.
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But there was something else in the hut that had not been there before. William could still hear an odd chirping coming from the corner, and so he threw off the bedclothes and went to investigate. There, tucked beneath a small table, were half a dozen yellow, fluffy chicks, no more than a few days old. "Well, will you look at that," he murmured, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Good Christ."
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"Are those-- Good God, William," he laughed. "I think you've been made a mother hen."
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