Seaside Moors and all my body shakes,

lurking in the background/cameo unless directly interacted with

The passage of time was not easily determined, not for a male that knew nothing of parturition. When he heard an anguished cry, that the children might be coming was not the first thought to enter his mind; he thought the worst, that something was happening—that someone was hurt. He sought the source with increasing worry, panic building as he heard a voice echo you’re too late. But when finally he reached them, he quickly found himself to not be alone, and those that came before hardly seemed troubled. Were they not under attack?

Confused, he approached, cautiously. There was something strange in the air, a scent he could not place. He wanted to ask Rosalyn about it, have her explain, but something kept him silent; a deep, instinctual knowing muted the male, kept him from drawing any nearer than next to Nieve.

Something was coming, something important.