Hushed Willows And I don't care, I just gotta figure out a window to break out

Dusty Rose didn't know or particularly care about Boone — except for in the usual common-decency sort of way, which he had been raised to believe was very important. He had also been raised to believe that he should not eat people's children. An unusual emphasis had been placed on that ideal, so much so that he was sure it was a pretty common occurrence, and it had happened to his sibling, and did that same rule apply to other people's kids?

He wasn't sure. But he didn't really want to eat Reverie's kids. It was just on his mind, because how couldn't it be?

He did wanna get a look at them, though. He was the youngest of his family, and so he had never seen a newborn pup before. Not since he was a newborn himself, anyway.

His expression was sweetly impassive while Reverie spoke, his brushy tail swishing in idle contemplation. Only when silence fell did it become clear that he'd been listening.

"'Course I'll stay," he assured her, his tone upbeat and sincere, but lacking the depth of feeling with which his leader had spoken. "You don't gotta worry about me."

He wished she would introduce the kids. They wouldn't have names yet — (Dusty Rose could still remember several months of "Hey, you!" before the family had settled, jointly, on Dusty Rose) — but she could at least show them off, couldn't she?

"If you need anything, just let me know," he said, still simply. "You oughta shut your eyes and focus on your varmints for a while."

Hint hint.