Heron Lake Plateau I decided to remodel, I'm going for mid-century mob hit

He wasn't wrong -- Raven often had a lot of the same worries herself. How would they juggle all of the responsibilities of leading a pack with the demands of a litter of newborn puppies? She figured she would be den-bound most of the time once the pups arrived, which meant that much of the burden of day-to-day leadership would be on Quixote's shoulders. But he would never be alone in it. Somehow, although she didn't know what she was doing any better than he did, she nevertheless managed to give him decent advice from time to time and it seemed like talking with her helped him sort his thoughts out somewhat. She'd still gladly do that with their puppies at her side, but she still would be lying if she said she wasn't worried about what lay ahead herself.

His question warmed her heart, and she nuzzled into the soft fur at his throat. Whatever his doubts about his ability to handle his obligations, he seemed to excel at the ones involving her. "I don't feel neglected at all," she answered honestly, a grin playing on her rain-streaked face. "You hunt for me and you keep me warm at night. You're there anytime I need anything. I couldn't ask for more." Her grin became a smile and she kissed his face, feeling a deeply comfortable warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature around them. He made her feel safe, complete, and like she mattered, like she was more than just the Redhawks' trusty healer.