The Sentinels If I never get to see the Northern lights

Her admittance wasn't exactly comforting.  If she was worried her time was passing and knew, on some levels, she wanted to try once more, he understood.  But he did not in any way want her to make this decision based on what he wanted alone.  He had been alone so long, and without such aspirations for so long, that it wasn't what mattered to him.  This - what they had here - was far more worth keeping than children who did not exist yet.  And if she came to resent having them, likely she'd come to resent him as well for being the impetus that convinced her to do so.

But she said she wanted a family, and he would take her at her word.  He personally was equal parts giddy and terrified at the thought of raising a litter of their own.  At times he felt he could barely function as a packmate.  How would he handle parenthood?

"As long as you are sure," he said, smiling and moving so that he could give her ear a light, affectionate nibble.  "I wouldn't mind, y'know.  It just being us.  But I'd love to try it too."  It was a mixed bag.  On one hand, he was worried he'd make a pretty worthless dad when it came down to it.  Kids could go so wrong, he'd seen it, and he wasn't sure he had it in him to prevent it.  But did anyone?  All you could really do was try to love them best you could and hope that was enough.