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

Reverie replied to him, but all he offered was a nod in return—this conversation wasn’t for him. Not truly—Mae’s gaze lingered upon the pups, and his gaze was upon her. A Boone was mentioned again—the sinking feeling that perhaps that was the father to the babes curled at the side of the tired mother, and something flashed among his eyes—understanding, perhaps.

He knew what it was like to have your mate torn from you.

Mae spoke of leaving then—Akavir thought to say something—condolences, perhaps? Yet he thought better of it. Anything he had to say would be of no worth to the grieving dancer… That, he knew with certainty.

“Take care, Reverie,” was what he did offer, and sweeping back, he allowed the two another moment together, incase more needed to be said among them in the privacy of the whelping den.