Hushed Willows [m] high on the hill where the foxhorns blow

In light of their marriage, Reverie was more open with her affection; she made less of an effort to hide it from Blossom, aware that she would soon need to explain. She wasn't sure at all what she would say. But if she knew her daughter as well as she thought she did, Reverie was certain that she wouldn't mind. There was too much love in Blossom's heart to be sorrowful for something that brought so much joy to their lives.
Reverie pressed her flank to his as he surveyed the forest of willows, a place she'd seen once before and had been enchanted by. That he loved it as much as she did only further confirmed what she already knew; that they were meant for one another, that this new beginning was more than chance and impulsive decisions. She watched as Blossom ran off into the forest, swallowing that instinctive flutter of worry at her throat. Her daughter would be safe here. There was no danger, and besides, Boone would protect them.
It's beautiful, Reverie breathed, leaning her head against his shoulder for a moment. Close to the sea, and the valley. It would be a good place to raise a family. She hesitated a little as the words slipped thoughtlessly from her, abruptly realizing that they'd never discussed that in particular. Of course they had Blossom to raise, but — more children? Did he want that? Did she want that? She pulled away slightly to cast a glance at him, studying his expression for some kind of reaction.