Hideaway Strath lightly fried fish fillets

Sirius was young, but he hadn’t missed the murderous expression on Lotte’s face or the growl that backed her timbre. When he didn’t immediately back away, the young mother made it plain that he ought to, flashing her fangs with a cutting rumble. She didn’t know if what he had was contagious or not, and Eirlys was literally such a delicate flower anyway that if he breathed the wrong way, she’d probably drop dead or something. The boy’s nervousness returned, and with it came the acrid scent of urine. Lotte hadn’t meant to do that, and she was immediately contrite. Would @Hemlock be angry with her? Her coal-capped ears fanned back against her head as she pulled her girls closer to her like a victorious gambler sweeping a mountain of chips protectively into the crook of her arm. “Hush, wee bears…” she crooned to them, hoping the dark closeness would comfort her firstborn. “Mallaidh, my girl, never and never, riding far and near in the land of the hearthstone tales…” She hummed a few bars of the song she’d chosen for the smoky little female, nosing and licking with slow gentleness at each eggshell-fragile crown.

Sirius needed attention, too, and Lotte readily gave it to him. “Siri,” she crooned gently, feeling bad for the confusion that swam within his sad baby blues. “Let’s play a game — do you want to play a game? Or would you like a story? I can tell you some stories about your mama, if you like.”