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.