Blackfeather Woods And the vultures all start circling

Harley didn't like it here. It was as dark, confusing, and unwelcoming as the wolves who inhabited it, from those he knew. The wolfdog didn't understand it: was it because of his domestic heritage, or something else? Nemesis seemed hellbent on the fact that it was he who'd hurt Althaia, and he who would hurt her again. As far as he was concerned, he was the only reason she now lived! Anger bubbled in his gut most hours of the day, and if it weren't for his wife he'd never be in this awful place. 
As he stalked through the trees after the grey woman's scent, he realized that Althaia had a different smell about her. Like Amekaze's, her scent was laced with teeming hormones, and his instinct told him that she was with pups. It wasn't long before she came into view, laying stone-still in a meadow of red and watching a bunch of ravens. They were probably the only things in the woods he didn't hate, other than himself and the female he'd bound himself to. With a sullen but friendly chuff, he approached with a small smile. His amber eyes strayed to her belly, and even he noticed the curve there, the thinning of her fur: there was no doubt about it, at all now. And reguardless of what color their fur and eyes were, no matter how much resemblance they bore to that bastard alpha of Moonspear, Harley knew that they were his children, through and through. He had no intentions of telling anyone, either, not even the children themselves. With luck, they really would all be his, or at least not look like Charon.
                       "Hello love.... How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"