Noctisardor Bypass What would I ever do with a rose?

Anselm held a neutral expression, but inwardly sighed relief that Druid didn't seem to catch his omission. He wasn't sure how he felt about the world knowing these were his children; part of him wanted to stake pride in such ownership, but a stronger, meaner side of him noted Heda had not been upfront with their parentage so why should he?

Someone began crying. Anselm watched as helpless as Kikimora, though his expression was far less concerned. All four legs present? Check. No open wound or exposed organ? Check. He supposed that children had yet to learn the world of hurt. With such inexperience, it was easy to blow a mild scrape out of proportion.

He hovered in the background, focusing his attention on the other children while Druid was preoccupied with the crying one. He couldn't say he knew exactly which one it was -- another burn of guilt -- but he was pretty sure it wasn't Gideon on account this one had just one the one tail.

He noted Kikimora was hovering on the fringes too, already so helpful at such a young age. He couldn't relate.