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

Their vision for a home, at the moment, was merely the three of them; birds coo in the emerald branches that embrace them, there's a rustle in a bush that sounds unmistakably leporid, but besides that, nothing wolven remains. And there were others they'd met, but as far as he knew, none were midwives.
The way Reverie speaks of pregnancy and the desire for a doula says there is a story behind Blossom's existence; one he, perhaps, should be concerned about.
Well, a loud thump sounds as his back hits the earth in one fell bow, a dragging motion of hefty figure across the wildgrass. we've got quite a while before we can even really think about it, yeah? We'll figure it out.
He whirls back up to his feet with a quiet huff. I do want it, his voice is marbled, quiet; a family. Always have.