Sawtooth Spire I was drunk, said I was sober, and you said yeah right

the summons rises thru the air, drawing wintersbane's attention away from his patrols; try as he might, he cannot entirely quell the stirrings of envy that he feels at knowing that he is the only eisen not to bring forth children this year. he tells himself that it is a good thing and yet ...cannot fully convince himself of it. nevertheless, he marks the place he leaves off from and heads inland, towards wylla's birthing den. he is not the first to arrive — a rush of relief washes over him — and unaware that anything has happened ( or that anything is wrong? ), seeks to brush his muzzle against quellcrist's in greeting as he steps to his daughter's side.

his gaze, however, seeks the puppies that have emerged from the safety of their den. his tail wags mutely against his hocks and a warm smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he regards them. he missed the chance to see quellcrist young like this, and that realization causes something in his chest to ache with a yearning for a chance that he hadn't allowed himself to consider since andraste's death.