Heron Lake Plateau sleeping children are still flying

He didn't need too much more encouragement to finish scrambling into the den.  His first target was to head straight to Raven, taking a brief look over the four definitely alive pups before turning back to practically attack her with kisses.  Quixote's whole rear end was wagging, a mix of joy and relief -- what had started awfully had apparently ended way better than it started.  As one who had assumed this was going to be end up the worst of all possible options, this was amazing.  Or something.  He wasn't sure he had the right vocabulary to express it.

She was here, they were here.  The fact that he was actually a dad now hadn't entirely set in yet.  Quixote finally turned to take a closer look at them.  Two little inkblots and two oddballs, and then there was one more of each outside that hadn't made it.  Not a bad haul, right?  And yet these little wolf-beans would turn into adults in how long?  

They're all so small and just -- I don't even have the words.  Just.  Yeah.  He fumbled it and looked back to Raven, smiling.  This was the best it could have gone, wasn't it?   Even though there were still the two bodies outside that would have to be dealt with, he'd focus on the ones here.  Trying to keep to the positive.  Maybe they just had something against plans.  It wasn't like their conception had been the apex of some drawn-out courtship, after all.  Quixote had no regrets about any of it given where they were now, even if the last week or whatever up through tonight hadn't been too pleasant.  It should have just been happy, but he'd take mostly instead.  But now, he had to wonder if the attack had cost the lives of two of their children, but there were still four here in a nice little row at Raven's belly.  This was his family.