Wapun Meadow the smell of home, like sour peaches and linen

Aventus could hear the quaver in her breath, even if she thought she was doing a good job concealing it. It speared him with guilt and self-loathing. It made him want to go to her and embrace her, but his paws were rooted to the ground by uncertainty. He didn’t want any of this, least of all to hurt her.

If she was pregnant, she would despise him. She would despise him the way he already despised the hypothetical children, and she would be right to do so, because he had taken advantage of her in his lusty greed and potentially ruined both their lives.

Aventus swallowed thickly and forced himself to lift dolorous eyes to her face. There was a sheen in hers that froze his heart in his chest. How could he do that to her? How could he? He had no answer for her concerned question; his tongue was stuck fast to the roof of his mouth until she mentioned nausea.

He didn’t know a lot about pregnancy, but he knew enough. He remembered how weak Astara became; besides the likelihood they would come out mad, and the guilt of subjecting innocents to the same wretched upbringing he'd had, he hated the thought of children because of how they would suck the life out of her. His thoughts ran rampant, and he couldn’t help himself then. The words pushed past his teeth before he could bite them back: Are you...?