Hushed Willows sugar magnolia

He too wished that they had more of the better days than the usual fair they had received. Never in his life had he thought he would ever find himself so mired in with such misfortune that it changed who he was, but then again Mordecai had never pictured himself as the settled type with children. Things changed, sometimes for the good, and sometimes for the bad. He rested his head on his legs then, breathing out slowly as Silas spoke again. Harlyn.

The best way he could have described his mate as of late was even more reserved than he had ever been. But he couldn't have blamed her, for if it wasn't a healing leg that got her down then it was being sick with worry for the son she could hardly search for. It almost drove a pang of guilt through him for lounging there, but he also knew that she would have only been worse if he pushed himself past the point of sheer exhaustion.

"She's healing," he said. They had scarcely talked at length since the incident, but he felt he knew her well enough by then to assume such things. "She's worried about a lot of things right now, but I think we all are." He did not mask the truth from his son—Silas was no longer a child easily swayed by a story. If Larkspur was intuitive enough to pick up on things, and Pippin old enough to make his own decisions on a situation, then Silas would naturally have those inclinations too.

Still, it didn't stop him from trying to clutch after their youth.

"Things will be better soon."