Moonspear Second, don't you tell me what you think that I can be

i’m sorry for the hold up!

Olive was glad the the tension had passed [at least somewhat]. Olive felt lighter but the alabaster king maintained his indifference and and Hydra was continued to be stalwart. Perhaps that was the norm for Charon and Hydra and the other wolves of Moonspear, and the true discomfort had been entirely hers — the mother was the questioning type, and she could never be completely sure of a wolf who cut its teeth upon puppies. She must keep her children closer. 

It was difficult for Olive to want to stay in this conversation; all she wanted to do was whisk her precious baby away from the den and let him play as puppies so, where he could be free, but the mother persevered. The fates of the small, fractured Svartell family lay in their ability to curry favor with Moonspear and its leadership. So a smile twinkled upon Olive’s lips and she stelliforous eyes looked up at them from where she lay, appearing to be quite pleased. The Ostregas were making conversation, so she would too, but she did not have to feign for long. 

“Oh, an astrologist?” 

The woman’s interest genuinely piqued by this fact. It had been a long time since she had met a wolf of similar tastes; ones who did not scoff at the her talk of the stars or question their tellings. There were many types of astronomers and astrologers, and the druid was surely different than most, but there might be hope for Olive and Charon yet. “We must go starwatching together, she suggested musingly, wondering what the strange, brutal man knew that she didn’t. 

Olive looked down at her small cub who sat blindingly in her arms. The femme pressed her nose against the velvet upon his head and held there of one moment, then two, before looking back up and continuing. “My children are named for the stars… Aries, Cassiopeia, an—“ but her downy voice jarred in her throat as she nearly uttered the name of her firstborn. No, here, she was not at liberty to talk about Sirius freely as she could around Dakarai. Pain stroked her heart but the mother gathered herself and made a quick segue. “My fierce little one,” she said, eye flitting to those of her son. "Tiny ram,” But then she looked at Hydra and the Alpha, respectively. ”He takes after his father — a warrior. But we have much learning to do, yes?” She jostled him in her arms and her voice was nearly a coo, and the woman couldn’t be anything but soft in the face of her babies. 

 “Pyx…Lyra. Are they black of coat and blue of eye, as so many others upon the mountain?”