Lost Creek Hollow bronca

that's pretty gay of you, wren sneers, brow arching a she leans forward to plant a kiss to her wife's dainty cheek. it felt good to say it aloud, that word; she did not think she ever had before. i'll strike you a deal. i'll be nice to your wife so long as you be nice to mine.
she lowers her head to press against silvertongue's flank, feeling around until she can hear the rhythmic beating of — how many were there? they are faint, but definitely there, and wren immediately grinds her heels into the earth to listen intently.
her children! she and silvertongue's children!
all of a sudden, her chin starts to wobble.
oh my god, i hear them, she whisper-shouts now, leaning so that her mouth is up against the round belly. hi, babies, can you hear me? it's your ma! i can hear you!