Blackfeather Woods the world is not enough

Her head snapped upwards from sniffing the ground below, her ears flattening against her head. Of all the voices she heard calling for her, his was the one she least wanted to hear. She looked accusatory towards the roundness of her stomach as she began to rise, wishing that the children would just shrink from sight, or that she could glamor her appearance like in the stories.

But if these children would allowed live and grow past the winter, it would become apparent who the mother or who the father of the monsters were. With their close blood, it would be hard to find some trait that wouldn't resemble either Cicero or Potema. 

She rose anyway, knowing that there was no point in ignoring him to hide the truth. Either she would be the first to greet him, or one of the more malicious members of the Dark Brotherhood. When she arrived at the border she made no attempt at hiding her stomach, grotesquely large as it was, or her shame. She stared him in the eye and opened her mouth to speak: Charon. It's good to see you. What are you doing here?