Golde nodded to her lover before beckoning the Pillar into the den. The youth, with eyes shut, did little but writhe about against the den's floor. The new mother settled against her haunches and sighed, leaning back to gingerly lap her tongue over her tousled pelt.

They're all in good health, the wolf noted, though, one seemed to have trouble breathing. A small frown—in technicality, that was a false statement; Joschka was still having trouble breathing. It hadn't passed yet.

In fact, she worried it never would.

Golde sighed softly and shook her head. I'm just grateful they're alive, she murmured. She dipped her head to gently nestle her nose against the soft fur that covered their little bodies, ears flattening against her nape in a strangely conflicting emotion, relieved, anxious, and... painfully vulnerable. Hazel eyes swiftly jerked to the side to glance at Nóttin. She trusted him—he was her leader. Not only because he led the entire pack, but he was the leader of her Pillar. The wolfdog raised her head yet again, gaze remaining fixed on the pups.