Shadewood but everything changes, and everything dies

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Themis began to speak, and she did not stop for quite some time. Vorilye listened, silent and somber. Her tale made him think of his own mother, Ysolda — she'd been found at the edge of his family's territory, eviscerated and with her throat slashed open. His father had claimed it was a cougar, but Vorilye had seen his bloodied paws, the tufts of Ysolda's fur still hooked on his sharpened claws. Grimacing, Vorilye moved closer, to stand by Themis' side. When he spoke, he was quiet. "I'm sorry for what you've been through. If... if it helps to talk about your past, then I'll listen." He wanted to do more than listen, he realized then. He moved closer, not for her sake, but for his — he would lay and embrace her, if he thought she would let him. To comfort her, but also himself. The night he'd spent with her and their whelps, he'd felt... at peace. He yearned for more contact, and he wondered whether she could sense it. Whether it was something she wanted.