Foxglove could feel the shift not only in the seasons and the world, but within the group. He needed to be more present, although he'd spent the majority of his time getting the garden space more defined. Fox was still stewing over the situation between Bee being gone again, and now River as well. He wasn't sure how to address any of it, finding himself longing again for the closeness of family. His family he hoped were thriving and enjoying their lives. Maybe he had nieces and nephews, hell - he wouldn't even have known if he had new siblings. He hoped his mothers were happy still and that the missing of him hadn't hurt them too much.

It seemed that although he had the best of intentions, it was unfair that he had been the cause of many being's hurts. There were only a few ways that he felt he could contribute in a positive manner, and that was by doing what he could around Avon. The meadow was no Glade, but, it had potential. It was during one of his little surveys of the land trying to find a decent place that he'd call his own to bed down in that instead he found a grove of flowers of every sort, including a surprisingly strong number of his own namesake flower's. He frowned - immediatelly thinking of the girls. They were old enough they'd listen if he instructed them to stay away, but what if they confused the safer flowers for the dangerous ones? Without hesitation he immediately called for the Matriarch, knowing that Fable would appreciate the swift response from the Apotheca to keep them all safe.

It seemed so unfair to have to have to tear them up, but, the safety of Avon overall was more important to him.

Some other time he would be calling her for more pleasant matters, maybe a stroll as they talked more about her family's culture and history. He hadn't exactly intended to become her dutiful shadow, soaking up stories of her family and their rich history as she shared them with him. If Foxglove had to guess, talking about The Goldencourte’s was probably the easier option than talking about Archon or the kids. It was understandable, sharing your most intimate hurts took a great deal of courage - and she had already been so brave to have spoken of her miscarriage to him.

Fable did not make him wait long, but Fox had used the time to his advantage to think of a safer method of disposing of the deadly plants. The sight of Fable approaching brought a small smile to his face and his tail wagged, head immediately dipping to greet his leader. Is’n that the way it goes sometimes? The prettiest face can cause you the most trouble. He couldn’t resist the quip, even with the seriousness of the nature of his call. I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to the girls. His or not, it didn’t matter - they were good kids and entirely innocent. Regardless of the strife the adults dealt with, the children weren’t to blame for any of it.

We can’t touch them directly, but I was thinking if we lay some more sturdy leaves atop them then we could pick them up. Or maybe a scrap of pelt, if we have any somewhere? Foxglove had no problem in handling the matter on his own, but it somehow felt presumptuous to do so without at least showing Fable. I told you about my Mother and about my Äiti - they had been in a different world together when they met one another. Unfortunately, Äiti had perished first - not unlike Gamma, actually. Mama covered her gravesite in Hemlocks, which is why she kept the name. But reuniting together gave them a new life, a new world. Foxglove didn’t think it was negative necessarily to have the deadly flora in their territory. You aren’t touching them, Miss Fae-be. The girls need you too much, just in case. He also wouldn’t take any back talk from her and he hoped the look in his eyes was enough to keep her from attempting to argue.

It had to be sad, that Fox saw himself as so replaceable - but a mother could not be. Fox refused to risk her, because he knew if something happened to Fable he wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself, either

Foxglove, while often well-meaning, didn't always think his words through. While to him, it was an innocent remark given the deadly nature of the flowers that had an undeniable beauty. For her, it was a loaded statement that sent her thought’s elsewhere without her bidding. She still found a way to smile despite it, and Fox returned the small smile with one of her own. She explained how the girls only knew the dormant world of winter, which held his paw and took him right down an uncomfortable path. Foxglove could only think of where his mind had wandered after he’d found her in heat. Both had the decency to not act on it, despite the difficulty thanks to the influence of nature.

It didn’t make him any less guilty for not being there to help support her through her pregnancy, or how he wished he had seen her swollen with life. As big as her heart was she deserved that sort of happiness and he was sure she’d been glowing with joy. I was doing a bit of home hunting when I found them, and I’m glad I did before the girls had. I could easily see them wanting to bring pretty flowers to their mama. He explained. It would have been too cruel to see any of them pass, but Foxglove might have abandoned his name if it brought harm to any of the growing girls.

He couldn’t help being amused by her explanation of just why the flowers were so dangerous. Despite their alignment as guardians of the Fae, Fox didn’t think the could be allowed to take root and put the unaware at risk. That sounds like a story my siblings and I would hear before bed. Lotte was a wonderful weaver of tales, tall or otherwise. It was one of his favorite things about her - she was creative and rife with mischief. She told us all sorts of fables and stories. It would take him some practice to be as good at it for Fable’s girls. He’d only sort of found his footing with River, but then they’d been apart for too long and he was growing up more. The life of a buck was quite different than a wolf.

Despite his firm determination, Fable still could not just accept his boundary. She had to point out he was outranked, but it had always been their dynamic. From the start she had been placed somewhere special to him, that he had found an immediate ease with her. Miss Fae-bl, He tutted back at her, as if her tone was missed. His own was meant to match, teasing right back. As Apotheca to the Matriarch, yes I am. He quipped. Surely even the Queen listened to her doctor, right? If it went poorly for him, he wouldn’t leave behind much more than Avon itself. If it were her, the ripples would be unending.

The contact of her shoulder against his coupled with her comment about not ‘being in the mood to punish’ made him cock an eyebrow. Careful, before you make me wonder just how bad I have to be to find out. Somehow the image of Fable making her stand wasn’t too hard to picture. She’d found her footing since deciding to return to her roots. It became less of leading as a sovereign, but truly more like guiding a family. I was thinking of basically digging them out as best as I can, trying to rip up enough of the roots too, and then I’ll carry them off. Where he would take them, Fox honestly hadn’t thought too much about. The plan itself felt solid enough, hopefully she would feel similarly.

If Avon took care of the thread of the threat together he could easily have seen Nausicaa whacking down the stalks with her stick. But she wouldn't want to relinquish that sword, after, because it would surely be contaminated. He imagined that between Illythia and Aisling they'd find the perfect replacement for the Foxgloves. Because the little flower nook was beautiful and he could already see the potential in it to cultivate a proper flower garden. Maybe that could be a task specifically for them so that they could start learning about different herbs and plants too. You know, He began as she agreed with him about the girls. This could be a good thing for them, though - what if this is their garden once we get it cleaned out a bit? We can help them find flowers to bring here. He suggested. He had been his Mama's 'favorite' digger, helping her with the garden when he was tiny enough to get caught up in one of the holes.

But those ideas were for later, and now, he had to pay closer attention to the task at hand. Or paw, as it was. He'd done his part in making the suggestion, but he realized that might not be appropriate either. He wasn't trying to tell her how to parent, after all, and he certainly didn't want to push anything on her and overrun her ideas with his own. He'd suggested the memorial for her lost children, and now was suggesting something else for her living too. Foxglove wanted to be helpful, he didn't want to annoy her with his efforts. That wouldn't have done any good for anyone. Mama was quite different - she was the type to lull us to sleep by boring us with details about random plants - after she told me one of the stories about the older generations. My many times Great Great grand-mère Fatin apparently had quite a life. Fox offered with an easy grin. Aiti had been the parent to weave the tales, Hemlock had regaled the stories of her people, she'd made sure that they knew from so eartly on what was safe and what wasn't. And he felt duty bound to help offer that to the children of Avon, no matter how many or how few grew up there during his lifetime.

He blinked back the fresh realization that he'd just consider his life in Avon only. Nothing other, nothing after, nothing else.

And although the ache of missing family was heavy and would not go, he was not unhappy where he was with the family he'd made for himself. It was expanding slowly, or perhaps he was just getting absorbed and he found that he didn't particularly mind being in the Goldencourte family orbit. He still needed to get to know more of them one on one, but, Fox had found that he liked the ones he'd met thus far. His mind had wandered down an interesting path, but there was Fable to snap him back to the present, and his lips quirked in a sly grin. I feel like I must have warned you, Miss Fae-ble. The way his name curled around her name felt more intimate, but they had played this game with ease. I have been known a time or two to perhaps act out. Was he truly being insubordinate if he was doing in the name of the good of Avon?

The warmth of the brief contact was immediately missed, but the giggle he'd earned was a far more precious thing. Her mood had soured so much for obvious reasons, any moment she found levity was worth any amount of effort. He really needed to figure himself out and untangle the mess that his thoughts and feelings had become. He chuckled at her comment and nodded. The others can't know sometimes you're soft. They'll think I'm being spoiled. He laughed softly at the notion before he stepped up to meet her. It was a very short-lived feeling, brows furrowing for a moment as she turned to face him again. It was obvious by the look on her face that she wasn't just playing. He was struck for a moment by her concern for him, of all wolves. It'll be fine - I'll use a couple layers of hide, make sure I keep my grip. I wouldn't even want to burn them, if we had the fire for it - I wouldn't want it in the air. Then it would be bad for everyone. Her last soft words sent a pang to his heart and he touched his snout to her forehead. It wasn't meant to be anything more than reassurance, it wasn't meant to be anything too much - and yet he couldn't help himself. The 'kiss' to her forehead was brief before he stepped back. It'll take a lot more than this to take me away from you.

That might have been too much. He swallowed heavily, before he gave a little nod. Okay - weeeeellll, now that he'd made it good and awkward he shifted his gaze to the clump of foxgloves. I'll get started digging these up - you said you had some hides? Maybe we pick scraps, since we won't be able to use them again. He suggested. It felt awkward cutting off their conversation like that, but it was an easier out than addressing him completely crossing boundaries.