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None of Scimitar's private thoughts were obvious in his expression, and he was fortunate that his wife was presently in the sort of good mood that lasted longer than thirty seconds. She gazed adoringly at his sleepy face, slathered kisses upon it, and stepped back to admire the face of the wolf she had chosen for her own. "I need some help," she told him, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of her sizeable belly. "I want to build the den - today." Her voice might not have suggested it, but there was little room for argument or compromise here.