Phantom Hollow how the wild magic, becomes

I worry, though; midwifery and caretaking are useless without pups to care for.  Perhaps she would find something better suited, perhaps she might not.  Either way she was concerned about finding something and working on it now before their pack's conception because she feared not being useful.

It was the same thing that drove her to exhaustion in the Vale — her consuming need to feel like her existence mattered.  So she would put her efforts forth viciously for Mato, she would be helping the most that she could in marking borders once they found their home, in recruiting pack members, in hammering out ideas.

Perhaps a counselor, she mused out loud, another tender trade.  It was all she could think of herself now especially with her blossoming feelings and coming to self, that she was too tender and warm-hearted.  Many wolves were not so susceptible to their own earthly desires and yet she found herself dreaming lately — even before they left the Vale — of caring and nurturing, tenderly placing kisses on some other woman's children after bringing them into the world and telling them stories, of comforting another in their sorrow, in singing them to sleep.

She shakes these thoughts, glad that Mato at least thinks her useful even with her head so full; obviously she had not been dealing with her transition to adulthood as easily.  His voice catches her once more and that beautiful language of his falls from his lips — Morwinyon.  She repeats it after him and smiles at its explanation. Does Arcturus have a story?