Arrow Lake it's the last song of the night

The surge of visitors following the herbalists’ delivery, despite pleasant intentions, had given cause for the new mother to adorn herself with hesitancy. So when a voice pressed against her ears, the silver kept quiet for a heartbeat — instinct telling her to be wary, as her muted mind roused from its sleepy, rosy list.

But, no; she soon eased, and knew it to be the shadowed rasps of her courter. Withdrawing a scarred snout with as much gentle deftness as she could — so as to not tousle their snoozing children (so she hopes) — Aure wobbled to dainty paws and made to pick her way towards the entrance of the thicket.

All the while, she returned with a lilt of, ”Ravenous, from ze moment they were born.” Her words were just as hushed as Verx’s, but she was halfway through settling back down when she realized her little err. ”Ah — ze, ah, kids, I mean. Not me,” eyes crescenting with apologetic mirth, ”but dinner would be lovely. Thank you.”

Aure regarded him with bleary, patient eyes; her demeanor was exhausted, but tender. So much had happened in the last several days. So, rather than eat just yet, she pressed a pale paw to one of Verx’s own; the delicate ivory properly dwarfed by his obsidian, cinching her claws gently into the dark velvet. A gesture of further thanks, affection, and — ”I appreciate it. How... how have you been, dragostea?”