Dragoncrest Cliffs i know the pieces fit, 'cause i watched them tumble down

Hux lifts his head and watches the anger flood over her. He lifts a paw as she steps forward, wanting to shrink back against the tree, but he can't bring himself to grovel that strongly. With her cold words he feels a surprising tinge of anger himself. I apologize, Heda.

It all seems wildly unfair to him. Heda had asked him to watch over Wildfire, to do whatever her mate needed, but the woman had rejected his every effort to make her comfortable, to feed her, to keep her safe. She made her irritation with his presence obvious but he'd never wavered, and then she had dismissed him. Was he supposed to continue to follow her around for months, enduring her bitterness, when it made her unhappy anyway? Thuringwethil probably would have met him with the same anger if he'd done that. He was damned if he did, damned if he didn't. There was no way for him to do the right thing; any choice he made would have been the wrong one.

He hides his thoughts, knowing they are selfish as well as irrelevant. He knew this would be the outcome from the moment he left the Caldera. So he just answers the question. She's much better. She'll be fine, I think.