The Sentinels yours immortally

lasher settled himself to listen, and a myriad of emotions passed across his face as his little witch spoke. caiaphas! his heart leapt to hear her name, but guilt settled over him, that she had been turned away. an expression of pain gripped his countenance to learn that rowan had been thrown out by aria, and he remembered his promise to the pale girl who now ruled. he had once meant to give her children, but had been taken by death before that -- now rowan, who carried his brood, was outcast.

and yet there was hope here -- beauty in the existence of the tiny forms that now nestled in rowan's womb. lasher listened to the news of the pack deirdre considered allies, and heard her inquiry, but his mind was swimming with shimmering tears that his witches would continue into yet another generation.

"rowan," he asked in a rasped whisper. "when last you saw her, was she well?" he must know! as to the question of his green-eyed witch: "donnelaith is a haven for those needing succor. defend yourselves against onslaught yes; i killed for you, my girl, and i would again! -- but do not become a land of war, of fighters. we have no need of that. our savagery is innate; it is upon our gentler nature that we must work."