Hideaway Strath if you're soft on rebellion, it'll grow

This was not my original plan for what I wanted Lotte to do, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ANYTHING GOES WHEN YOUR CHARACTER IS HORMONAL AMIRITE

Tempers begin to fly and the soot-stockinged rogue’s maw gapes into a widening snarl as the strange pulsing, pulling, and tugging pains in her lower abdomen intensify in time with the situation at hand. Banríon embraces the pain — she uses it. “Sirius will stay,” Lotte echoes with clear, crisp confidence, her argent gaze pinning down each member of the circle with fierce alacrity. “Aries and Cassiopeia will go with their sire and dam, but Sirius will stay under Hemlock’s care. The trip would kill him, if this illness does not.” Her gaze falls to Olive. “There are packs outside the hinterlands,” she says. “There is a pack dwelling in the evergreen wood just south of Ravensblood Forest and a mountain pack south of there.” Lotte has no love for the disgraced pair, but she is not a cruel wolf, no matter what the misted druid may believe. The songbird has no desire to add to the vitriol; she just wants the meeting to be over so she can ensconce herself in the King Sequoia and surrender in private to her pain.

“Rakas, please — wait,” she murmurs to Arturo, speaking to Olive but watching the gangster’s black-masked visage. “You will leave with @Declan,” she states, tipping back her head to call for the guardian, a terse, urgent summons. “You will nurse your son and wish him well, and then you will leave as Ceannasach commands.” Lotte beseeches Arturo to stand with her on this, her silver eyes transfixed by his incandescent hellfire glare. Quietly she attempts to reason with him, a heavy weariness in her eyes. “It will not drain the pack’s resources to allow her this — and it will save Hemlock the borage,” she licks her lips, the unfamiliar word falling clumsily from her tripping tongue, “should she or I need to take it.”