Heron Lake Plateau [m] your hands can heal, your hands can bruise

For half a second, Phox thought Poe was talking to him, and he tried to remember to breathe. Then he realized she was talking to Camilla, not him. The tiny writhing (male) body squirmed in the grass, and again, Phox nudged it toward his mate. A second later, another one slipped into the world. It was lighter in color that the first one, and Phox set about cleaning her. She was so very small, and Phox worried that even the pressure of his tongue might cause her entire body to break into a million tiny pieces. Somehow, that didn't happen.

As gently as he could, he nosed her toward Camilla as well. They need to eat, he whispered. His gaze caught Poe's, a silent thank-you for doing whatever it was she had at least attempted to do. A thought crossed his mind, but he decided against it for some inexplicable reason. Instead, he returned his attention to Camilla and settled down beside her, wondering if there was more to come. He hoped that was the last of it.