Noctisardor Bypass veida

if druid had been here, minding the pups instead of interfering, she would not have been in such a situation. heda recognized this thought for the dire, cruel sentiment it was; she simply could not fathom why druid's world had simply not narrowed to block glaukos out. he no longer mattered beyond the eight weeks it took to rear children. heda had almost been the fourth, a fact she could not remember mentioning to her sibling. 
he was not a husband. he was barely a father.
heda was becoming frustrated; her sister was not listening, in her opinion. a man who harmed would harm again. three times it had happened. they could tell glaukos to leave all they wanted; if he decided to come in then there was no one here to stop him. if he had not even meant to hurt druid, suppose he wanted to do it later?
but she was once more being unfair, because she was tired, so very tired. rivenwood was supposed to have been a final, peaceful stop. the clock ticked and she clung to its sound, fighting the surge of resentment. all her sister wanted was the same: a respite. heda was willing to capitulate to have what she wanted, and her sibling was willing to struggle to have the same.
"of course i will, druid."
anger choked her, anger and horror and worry. she didn't want to struggle again, she wanted a haven. a rest. the tears threatened but this time she kept them back. "we'll start tomorrow, then. as soon as they all start walking, i think -- i think we can put them on a little chewed meat." weaning would have to be early to relinquish demands upon two hunters who needed to put on weight and then prepare in a couple of seasons for winter.
she didn't want to struggle. staying here alone with glaukos and six kids was preferable to the grinding routine of no one sleeping and surviving mostly off small game. she remembered the grit of raccoon meat in her mouth, and her entire being rebelled against the concept of starvation, of scrambling and rationing and fearing and worrying, and all while trying to be a mother to children who slowly began to hate their mother for their own suffering.
"can you rest for now?" the floating voice replaced the brief passion; she crawled into herself and huddled there, watching druid through an expression that slowly closed.