Hushed Willows blue, green, or black; smooth or mountainous; that ocean is not silent

Olive sensed the shame that came to her daughter — perhaps the midwife shouldn’t have been so brazen, but it gave her the answers she needed to know. She played right into the overzealous, kind-of-intrusive mother trope! A huge smile spread across her face, and though she did not want to make any quick assumption and throw her daughter for a loop, Olive knew immediately what this way.

She raised an eyebrow at the star-spangled girl nonetheless. “Daughter,” she addressed. “You did not do a good job,” though she kept her tone buoyant and light. “Because I do believe you are pregnant!” the words nearly burst from her mouth, giving Cassiopeia a sniff to confirm. The scent was light, but now that she knew to search for it, it was clearly there.

She attempted to stymie her excitement, for stoic Cassiopeia’s stake. Still, she danced her front paws against the earth and mused laughingly “Can you imagine, you a mother and me, a grandmother?” and turned to her daughter. “We must celebrate!” For this was a good thing, even if the father was truly a good-for-nothing who hung out far on the coast.