Moonspear I make dark things beautiful, and beautiful things dark

The matriarch felt an anxious feeling pool within her as she watched her son shift, and concern pressed into her furrowed brows up until the point he emerged. She exhaled and was rid of those awful feelings as he was soon freed, and she moved to nose him, tail beating against her sides (and likely his own) thanks to her palpable relief. You must be more careful, my son; there are those that would no doubt take advantage of you in such sorts, she forewarned, a dark look passing over her features as she thought of the one who attacked him, and the other that was often told to be with her. 

Her gaze shifted to the stone as he spoke of it, and she admired it openly. It is very lovely, she drawled, feeling the babes quicken within her as she looked upon it. Hydra moved, so that her stomach was more accessible to him, and murmured quietly, place your cheek there, she gestured to the place they often kicked at, it seems as though they are thanking you already. Here she grinned, watchful of his own features. Such things never ceased to amaze her.