Whitebark Stream So take this feeling, make it grow.

He watched her in silence, earthen eyes half-lidded in soft affection for her as she examined his sweet surprise. While Dawn may not have been one for the little things, Artyom could pride himself on his consideration for such. He had great appreciation for pretty things and, when he found something he rather liked the look of, his desire was to share it with those he cared for. So he would keep delivering these gestures to her, the she-wolf who'd so suddenly come to mean the world to him, for as long as he drew breath.

The conversation drifted easily onto the topic of Dawn's hopeful pregnancy. She shared with him that, last time, she felt uncertain in the beginning until her womb swelled with cubs. A sympathy stirred in him, then; she was sure to still feel the absence of her children sorely. Artyom would not pry, however, and instead sought to bring her focus to lighter things. "I know next to nothing about this," he told her with a hint of laughter, "so I hope you're prepared for two months of stupid questions!"