Lost Creek Hollow the holly bears the crown.

Harlan chuckled softly as he responded to her humor with a bit of his own. She nosed his fur of his cheek fondly, watching as his expression grew pensive. She wondered what he thought of, but he voiced it soon enough leaving her no more room to wonder. His query made her smile, though in truth it felt like there was very little in this moment that could make her frown.

"Ah, but we Cinderlochs are never gray," she said theatrically, pulling out the full welsh accent that she'd learned from her grandmother but didn't often allow to tine her dialect, "Shades of brown that sink to black, but never a touch of gray. We are wolves of the earth, not of rock and ice." Harlyn dropped her drama after that, grinning before leaning in to preen the fur behind her mate's ears.  Mordecai leaned into it with a happy growl, and Harlyn was content to let the conversation meander as they happily continued making plans for their childrens' futures.

Tacking on an ending so we can archive :)