The Sentinels estranged

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The call sounded overhead and the swarthy titan felt his flesh prick with the anticipation of all those months. His children would be there. Casting his dark eyes toward the wood, he set off at a steady pace. For the first time – since the attack from the bear – he did not move with a jagged gait; the limp from his limb was nonexistent in that time of need. The sands urged him forward, past the point that had once marked the divider between their lands. He did not need to seek permission to enter the wooded pack lands because he and Deirdre were the rulers of both of those territories and their word had become law. Instead of two, they had forged together as one. In spite of the fact that the foreign female was carrying his young, he was already forming a lie to the woman he had been promised to. They would be children from another Cairn and he would merely take them in as his own.  
 
Skellige wondered faintly if there was a chance that one of them would look like him. If they would have the same pale markings of the sea against their ribs or if they would walk with the towering intimidation that he carried in his gait. That didn't matter – he could excuse it as coincidence. He did not think that Deirdre would question it, but he did know that he needed to get to Mannoah before she might utter the truth to an unexpecting passerby.  
 
When his crimson gaze settled on the figure of Doe, he felt relief flash through his veins and his heart thrummed less violently within his chest. Closing the distance on her and the pregnant wench, he lifted his tail upward and adjusted his crown so that he towered over the sad form of Mannoah. "The children," he growled quietly, drawing his eyes to her swollen form. She did not look pleased with the circumstances that were presented to her. Something within him suggested that this would be a difficult birthing. She carried the young of the devil.  

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