Otatso Wetlands Break free and leave us in ruins

Wylla could have rolled her eyes, if she wasn't in such a humourless mood. No strings? Zane obviously was not aware of what happened when you stuck it in a fertile woman in the springtime. He would make an ideal donor, a man who would fuck off on the next wind, if she was looking for that sort of thing.
But she could hardly deny that every child she brought into the world wound up plagued by insecurity and instability. She had done the single mom thing with Tiercel, and that had gone poorly. She had tried for a family unit with Phaedra and Thade and that, too, had failed. She blamed Mahler for that, but for all her pretending, Wylla knew she played a hand in it as well. She left them.
Before she could snap her jaws at Zane in warning, there was another. Wylla felt Stag more than she saw him, the cascade of snow on the feathered backs of her legs, the tension that wound suddenly between boy and man. Only... Was he a boy any longer? It was not the first time Wylla turned her head to assess Stag's form, but it was the first time she did so with the appraising eye of a woman on a man, and she was unsure whether to be surprised or sickened by the amber desire that sprung up in her when he growled at Zane.
Gross, she reprimanded herself. He's like your son.
She didn't have much longer to dwell on that. A third was arriving, and his heavy tread put all other thoughts from her mind. Zane and Stag could have killed each other and it would remain in the background of her thoughts, for Mahler stole her attention.
She hated the way she wanted to go to him. She hated how her first thought was if he would leave that damnable pack and follow her if she carried his children once more, if that would finally be enough for him to care about her more than his pride. She hated the way he made her feel. She also hated that she had smelled how many women lived within his pack, and knew he would whet his appetite with all of them, and would gaslight her for taking issue with it. She hated that she knew how that story would end. She hated that she wondered if it might not.
Wylla pressed back against Stag, bolstered by his presence, entirely unaware of the effect she had on him or his feelings for her, and let her throat rattle with a warning snarl, aimed primarily at the man who had disappointed them both in every possible way, shattered her heart and thrown aside the chance to make things right, and still showed his face here.
Zane, well, he might as well have not existed with these two around. Poor guy.