Firefly Glen Six is not a pretty number; eight or three is definitely better

Oh. Oh. What? Marina's eyes widened as she took in the words. She stood abruptly, took several shaking steps back, and vomited. Children. She wanted them, of course, but not without a partner to raise them with. Not without a pack and a support system.

And those were things she was not ready for. Not yet. She tried to collect herself, wiping her mouth with a foreleg. A village? She echoed numbly, because it was the only part that felt safe to question. She realized she was crying, but didn't bother to explain herself. It seemed pretty self-explanatory. This was a whole crisis.