Cedar Sweep but rye love isn't good love, boys; Did I ever tell you 'bout the time I -

A frown deepened the lines of his face as the conversation went on. Dagfinn was distraught and Amber was not far behind. He'd only just managed to find her, calm her down, and she was already being re-frazzle and wrestled from him. Still, he could not bring himself to fault either of them too badly. It was a messy situation, but life was like that. Wolves were instinctual creatures. Imperfect. But in Amber he saw a fierce desire to protect their unborn children and an iron will to live. In Dagfinn, he saw a heart willing to love past what was easy, and a naive longing for the kind of romance that was so storied in youth.

It was a heartbreaking scene, and Grayday sought to end it. End all their troubles.

"Come with us," he said before his pride could sweep the solution away. It was not what he'd wanted from Amber; he believed that mothers and fathers should love each other. But Dagfinn already loved her as Grayday ought've before knocking her up, and it was not in him to end something like that, if he was able to affect it at all. And he could love her, still. Maybe not as he'd hoped, but enough. Well enough to raise a brood with her.

He looked to Amber, then, awaiting her approval or denial, and ready to agree with either one.