Whitefish River Wheat kings and pretty things

Hieronymous was quick to answer. She should be at ease, but it still did not explain his behavior or where his wounds came from. The painted man fumbled eventually finding a compliment and shortly after it all started to click. The Constable had assumed her status was obvious, but perhaps it was less so without the ability to smell. Her shoulders relaxed the tension she was unaware she had been holding as she lowered her haunches to sit. Ah...yes. There was no point denying it, it would only grow more obvious in the weeks to come.

For some reason she couldn't fathom, Hieronymous had been infatuated with her since their first interactions. Every conversation an attempt to get closer or compliment her, truthfully she was never sure how to respond, but she thought it was obvious his efforts were futile. It was nothing against him, except maybe his horrible habit of invading her personal space, she was just someone who would never settle down. It wasn't because she was against the idea of it, more so a conflict of interests. For Ira, duties came first and even friendship was scarce. When the roan woman was younger she had sworn off the chances of having a family and her one attempt at love ended her...well here. Pregnant with the kids of two men, neither of which were truly in it to be with her. It's fine though, that didn't bother her. If it meant a litter of her own, it would be worth it or at least she hoped so. Gods, it better be worth it after the reception she received from her father.

A sigh slipped past her defenses as Ira finally tore her gaze away, You should move on, Hieronymous. Your breath is wasted on me. Perhaps now he would take the hint. It's not like she led him on, his advances had been denied in the past, but his determination never waived. Not until now. I wasn't made for love... Ira raised her head, eyes searching the melting colors of dusk that lit the sky for nothing in particular. A single huff resembling something like a chuckle shook the mountain wolf's chest, a slight smile gracing her features. My place lies alongside duty, not at the side of a man. I tried it once, but I've come to accept that this is for the best. Even now she pushed her luck, this family she is a part of creating would never truly be hers. She was accepted, but acceptance was just another form of tolerance. Ira had seen it before, long ago in the mountains of Hengfell.

It suddenly occurred to her that everything she said did not explain the pups she now carried. Ira's attention turned to her swollen belly, her forepaw lifted to gain a better view. I was approached as a surrogate. The children I bear will be mine, and in turn, I have been accepted as family, but their family will never truly be my own. A piece though is better than none when the whole is impossible. It was fine, she was content with this silver of peace. The opportunity she was presented with was more than she could have asked for. Hopefully, the painting knight could understand.