Lost Creek Hollow the holly bears the crown.

"I would hope that they would have four feet, and at least a tail," he went to add. Her nudge had been all it took to prompt him into thinking of more things. Though in seriousness, he hoped that they would come out well. He hoped they would survive. But the solemn thoughts were left to be scattered and pent up until another time, and so he pressed on.

"But brown? Why not grey," though who could really guess how they would come out. Harlyn had more darkness in her coloration than he did, but he had managed to inherit some of the red from his mother. Genetics were certainly something he could ponder over, though he hardly knew the science behind it. Whatever they ended up, that's what they would be and so on and so forth.

"Or perhaps they would be both."