Dragoncrest Cliffs A million stars

Thuringwethil looks upon the child for a moment, her nose still close. Soon he doesn’t smell much more than blood and she wraps her mouth around him to set him away from the others. She knows she can’t dig a grove big or deep enough in her current state and she’ll find Dio later to do the deed for her. It’s something she’s supposed to do, and feels it is only her right to do, but she has to give herself a pass.

When Wildfire goes on with names, she turns back to her mate and looks at each respective puppy. She lingers longest on Artaax, blinking a few times as the thought of a middle name—of Dio’s middle name—doesn’t settle well with her. These aren’t his children, no matter his contribution. She is hesitant at first to say something but these are her children, too, and even if she gives most of the room to her mate, their names will remain as close to home as she can make them.

“Just Artaax,” she decides, lowering her nose a little closer to the child. She touches the next one over, Phoenix, and then finally, the one without a name. The weakened of the bunch that still remained resilient. Other than size, there are no other deformities and no ill-smells to lead her to believe something else is wrong. Her nose wrinkles as she lingers on the last boy, wondering what name in store is for him. “What about him?”