Hideaway Strath when we arrive, sons and daughters

Lotte threw back her head and laughed heartily as Sirius fairly launched himself at her, his needle teeth tattooing her chin as puppy slobber flecked her cheeks. Silver eyes flicked up to meet Hemlock’s viridian ones, a throaty rumble humming in the young queen’s throat at the trail of kisses that trailed warm spice in a thin crescent that swept from the base of one triangular ear to the blocky curve of her jaw. For a moment it seemed her eyes clouded over as the pleasurable sensation took hold, but an enthusiastic kick to the chest brought her around. “Silly little bunny,” she cooed to the heather gray cub, watching in amusement as he batted at the plush fur of her breast. One ear twisted, followed by the graceful sweep of her muzzle as she turned to regard her children. Mallaidh, the little spitfire, appeared to have bullied Eirlys away from the meat — and as far as Lotte was concerned, that was natural as they settled into a natural hierarchy, but she vowed to keep her eye on it nonetheless.

Sharp argent eyes registered that Ceallach, the little peacemaker, had swept in to comfort the snowdrop — and Lotte relaxed, turning to Hemlock with a bright smile. “It is,” she agreed, her black velvet banner flagging the air. “I am so glad that y — ”

A series of babyish growls from behind Lotte immediately caught her attention, and she whipped back around. Instinctively she knew it was Roarke who was doing the growling, attuned as she was to sounds and voices, so her moonbright eyes immediately honed in on him. The noise he’d made was childish, but the protectiveness he felt was clearly very real. It filled her warrior’s heart with pride even as it made her briefly anxious — she wanted the children to get along, but she wasn’t particularly skilled in making that happen. In her home settlement, the cubs ran around much more freely than they did in these greenwilds, and everyone knew each other in one way or another. “Roarke,” she sang softly to him, trying to redirect his frosty stare. “Sirius is our friend. He has come to play with us.” She wasn’t honestly too sure what words the little winter’s bane understood and what words he didn’t, but she gently disengaged from the little storm cloud to let the boys see each other more clearly. “Roarke, do you want to play?” she asked him, dropping into a playful bow to illustrate her meaning. “Play with Sirius?” She decided to distance herself equally from both cubs instead of comforting one or the other, and sidled up next to Hemlock instead.