Wheeling Gull Isle she’s a 10 but…

in a rush of amusement, heda wondered what caracal might say if she told him that she had dreamed of four.
what he asked next however, stampeded any coherent thought from her mind, and she simply sat staring at his crimson face with a half-dozen emotions passing over her countenance.
the first, surprise! why did he ask? heda now thought madly, suppose he already had! 
the second, embarrassment. she had not been taught these things, but she had seen the animals around her, round with pregnancy or coupling in the open beforehand.
the young sweetharborian was not ignorant of the act itself, she simply did not yet connect it to conception. and it had always seemed rushed and brutish to heda. did caracal want that with her?
the third, shame, shame at her sudden interest and the way her eyes of their own accord moved to the rangy strength of his shoulders before she yanked her gaze toward the sea.
a fourth, anxiety; a fifth, desire.
the sixth, something unknowable and unsaid.
"n-no," she stammered eloquently at last. "i uhum, i always thought it might be — well, something you did after you married."