Bramblepoint The shape of brat pop to come

Lasher made no suggestions, though he seemed amenable to a walk. And so they began to mosey through the woods, their steps soft on the springy earth. Peregrine watched Lasher take in his surroundings. Although there was no particular sentimentality in his gaze—he really had laid those feelings to rest a long time ago (death curses could have that effect)—there was admiration in his gaze. Lasher was truly a beautiful wolf.

"Oh," the swarthy Alpha suddenly said after a long stretch of companionable silence. "I forgot to mention that we named the kids since I last saw you. Fox likes to wait until they're a month old," he explained, wondering if Lasher would find that as weird (and maybe upsetting) as he had at first, way back when. Now it was just another Redhawk tradition.