Whitefish River You-you-you-you threw my sandwich away. *MY* sandwich?

He was the one to close the distance between them, and she pressed against him, desperate to find some kind of sign that he would eventually forgive her. She couldn't bear for him to be so angry with her, especially during this vulnerable time.

She listened quietly as he spoke, nodding against him in agreement because he wasn't wrong. She would leave the pack in a bind if something happened to her. I know, she said softly. I'm sorry. I promise I won't leave the territory at all until after the children are weaned. His reaction would stay a scar on her heart for a very long time, and she had no intention of causing him so much distress ever again, at least not intentionally. 

But— she began hesitantly. I do think about you and our children, all of our children, every day, she said, pulling back so that she could look at him. How could she not. She had never been so happy in her entire life. How can I make this up to you? she pleaded. I'll do anything you want. And really, she would. All she wanted was to move past this and go back to how things were before her stupid mistake.