Hushed Willows I'm ready to leave it, I'll go when I feel it

‘You can come in, if you’d like.’

No, he definitely would not like, he decided in that moment. Something about Reverie was unnerving to him in that moment—the easiness her kindness came, even after the things he had said to her. Had done to her. But he was here for Mae—she masked her anxiety as best she could, but it was becoming obvious to the man how torn she felt in that moment, and his heart ached for her.

So he moved closer, ducking down to enter just the front of the den, his eyes blinking to the light adjustment. Her golden body curled about a bundle of puppies—three, perhaps, but he tried not to look too closely, as if the gentle curve of her hip and the intensity of her eyes would accuse him of seeking more.

“Congratulations,” he murmured instead, his eyes seeking Mae, now. She looked at the pups with a tenderness he might have missed, otherwise. He felt a certain regret tug at him—that perhaps she would have been a great older sister, had he not messed every angle of his life up.

“The creek can try to supplement something to you and yours in exchange—we would never want to see a pack or its young struggle by being down one hunter.”