The Heartwood oh, adi, don't you know you're still number one?

He lingered, helpless, as she went on. And the last of her words were like a knife to his heart.

Ugly? Ishara, no child of yours could be ugly, he assured her. You are beautiful, and always have been. . .and all your children will follow suit.

It was to her credit, he thought, that their children had turned out as well as they had.

I've met Dutch here, he went on. He leads his own pack. And Eldest has a daughter—a princess, I think? Sired by some prince from some land? And our younger children thrive, but Easy—

He stepped forward then, meaning to place his muzzle upon her forehead—but if she retreated, he would relent. Still, though, he kept his hawkish gaze upon her face, pleading with her to listen.

Easy—you are an amazing mother, he insisted. Whoever has sired this litter doesn't matter. In fact, they're lucky. Because their children will have you.