Stone Circle the branches have traded their leaves

His days spent with Stephie had gone a long way toward dulling Murdock's aversion to children. If he was being honest with himself, it was more of a chore to hate kids than it was to care for them. After all, it'd taken one look at Clary to have him falling in love with her cute little face. And when she collapsed against him, Murdock reacted very little beyond arranging himself into a position more comfortable for her.

"Clary, then," he said sweetly, booping her nose with his own. "Let's getchya dry, alright?"

He began grooming her with quick, economical movements, wanting to get her warm as quickly as possible. The days were getting colder, and he didn't want them to catch pneumonia and die. Especially Stephie. Especially Clary. The third one, too, to a lesser degree. (He was sure he'd love that one, too, as soon as he saw it. God, he was getting sentimental in his old age.) Instincts were difficult to overcome, and Murdock had been raised by a loving father to one day be a loving father. And, since he'd denied himself that for so long, he supposed it was only natural for him to latch on to the first set of babies he saw. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this - but that didn't make his gaze any less adoring as he looked down on Stephie's pale sister.