Lost Creek Hollow you will never know

love.

ingram wants to argue that, that wasn't what they had. they had familiarity, they had loyalty and stability within each other.

but was there potential? sure. it just wasn't there yet.

instead, the patronsaint settles for a grumble of displeasure. naught could be done about it ... it was over and done and they were both here. but he gave himself the time to be grouchy about her daredevil-like venture so heavily pregnant.

the want to tell crowfeather that he doesn't need help tending to ashpaw burns suddenly and hotly within ingram's chest. in the interest of not setting a new record of finding himself on a leader's bad side within the first handful of minutes of their meeting: he resists.

are you a medic? a midwife? ingram inquires, trying to suss out what exactly crowfeather meant by his words.