Dragoncrest Cliffs watch those words rise with a smoke

Tirgatao flinched when Thuringwethil probed for what was at the heart of her unease. It was not an unkind gesture—Heda was not often savage towards her, though her demeanor consistently suggested that it would be wise not to cross her. The corner of her mouth quirked into an odd little half-grimace, and she suddenly became quite interested in the way the tiny waves lapped into the muddy shore line. Her paws flexed and her claws punctured the soft ground. Though the day was kind, and the weather warm, she still felt the ache that came with the season. Now that Heda had asked her directly, she could not find a reason to hide it any longer. 

With a glance spared towards her Commander, Tirgatao spoke, "Perhaps it's hormones and the scent of their milk coming in that sucks me into this depression, but ever year I've wondered what it would be like to rear my own children." She explained with a uneasy twist of her ear. "I don't even know if I would be good at it, really. But if I can depart this world having made Drageda better than it was before, and leave a legacy in the form of my own flesh and blood, then I will have fulfilled everything I set out to do in life."

She sucked in a breath. "It's wistful thinking at best. In truth, I don't seek it blindly for the sake of completing my dream. I would rather it come naturally and, if it doesn't, then I can only hope that I've done all I can do."