Blacktail Deer Plateau Social Casualty

Malachi grew still at Scarlett's words. Her pleasure did not pass to him, and he could not work himself to reciprocate her joy. Instead his brow tightened and his mouth flicked with a shadow of unease. Scarlett's motherhood was a blessing, but at what cost? How many of her children would survive past childhood, and how many past birth? Would she have the pleasure of watching them grow, or would she be the one to bury and mourn?

The man felt his throat tighten. He could not shake his thoughts, but he refused to share them. Malachi prayed the best for Scarlett - he really did - but his hope did not rest with her, and his troubled gaze flicked to the horizon before he returned his eyes to her. "You'll be a good mother," he finally said, because that much he knew to be true - though even the greatest mother could not save her children from death. His attempt at encouragement felt alien on his tongue, but he couldn't drag the queen down. Maybe her family would be spared, but he doubted that. Death didn't play favourites. "And you'll raise them well."