Silver Creek The witching hour

Oh her heart had never heard anything so beautiful as his cries! Even in his quiet fury Rowan smiled down upon her boy, nosing gently over him with tender, steady motions. She cleaned him and pulled him to her breast, tongue drifting down his tiny body before she turned her attentions to her daughter. "My sweets," She whispered softly, lowering her head down to watch the pair of them. They could not have looked more different than one another. She still did not know who it was that Mona resembled and yet her little jewel was loved all the same. Perhaps there was a family member that had come through in her coat. "Grow strong, my loves." She murmured tiredly, but she dared not close her eyes - she could not dream of anything more beautiful than the vision in front of her.