Bramblepoint The shape of brat pop to come

the brush of peregrine's paw flustered the druid; he composed himself and reached to touch the lowered dark limb with a brief pat of his own.

blue willow and osprey. his mate had been cold toward the idea, and osprey had been too involved with dante and the cycle of heat upon her -- lasher gave a nod all the same. "i do not think that the willow will come to the caldera any sooner than several months; she is loathe to leave the little ones, and she is ... wary. osprey may, perhaps."

he did not wish to tell peregrine of his mate's angered words, nor tell him of how osprey intended children -- it was difficult to avoid the subject, but he wished for nothing to taint this meeting, nor for anger to sweep over either of them. allow it to be so, he wished, though he suspected peregrine would ask for further details.