The sooner her wounds were clean the sooner he could get her back to his infirmary and treat her further. Give her some proper medicine that would numb the pain better than the snow. Once the last of the snow melted into her wound, cleansing it of debris and old blood, Lachesis pressed his tongue to her cheek before scooting closer to share his warmth with her. Even when they had known nothing but each other’s names, XIX had always cared about her. The closer the two became, the more he cared. Now, he couldn’t imagine his life without her—even if she made him worry far more than usual.

His upper lip curled as she spoke. Perhaps he was stupid for letting her wander too far, but he could not stop her from venturing outside of Hearthwood. He would be stupid to try and suffocate her a second time with his presence. The last thing Lachesis wanted to do was push her away.

“He is the stupid one for attacking you without reason,” he retorted, his tail lashing behind in annoyance. His brows fell into a soft line as he studied her, the scent radiating off her still leaving the ghost feeling baffled. “We’ll deal with this,” he assured her, his tone much softer this time. Whitestone had some explaining to do—they weren’t going to get off easy for the unprovoked attack on a river wolf. Was this Craw’s way of showing Hearthwood he wanted to sever their alliance, or did they have a rogue in their ranks?

As he buried his nose into her ruff XIX began to realize why her scent, both comforting and alluring, was so familiar. Last spring Naia had carried the same aroma, and Kisla the two prior. His features smoothed as he drew back from the blue-eyed sparrow, a shy smile stumbling onto his liquorice lips. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright, Val?” He repeated coyly, a single brow raised as peridot met sapphire.

He knew, but did she?

Filling in the agouti queen was the right course of action, despite Lachesis wanting to seek out the Whitestone wolves immediately. They could not leave his co-lead in the dark about a situation as serious as this one. The ghost knew that Kisla would be furious if he went to speak to the monadnock wolves without her. He frowned, forehead creased. “So you’re saying I can’t rip his face off first?” Lachesis wanted to do a lot more than rip the white wolf’s face off, but that would have to wait. He did not want to get ahead of himself if this was the act of a rogue. There could still be an alliance left to salvage and despite the anger that burned within his chest, XIX was willing to talk things over with the silver spider. “But you’re right, we’ll call for Kisla as soon as I get some herbs for you,” he added, his nose briefly pressing against hers as he offered her a gentle smile.

Of course she didn’t know.

The blue-eyed sparrow never had a litter of her own; never been around female’s with swollen sides. Peridot’s glistened with amusement as he watched concern flicker across her features. She gave a quick response, explaining that she felt a little tired as a result of the fight, which was to be expected. Nineteen nodded softly, his gaze never wavering from her face. Is something wrong? He could practically taste the worry radiating off of her. “No, nothing’s wrong,” he started quietly, a corner of his mouth lifting, “I, uh… you’re… um.” His brows tightened, head tipping slightly to the side. “You’re, um, you know.” Why was this so difficult? He nudged her side gently, hoping that she would get the hint without him actually having to say anything. He was bubbling with joy on the inside, but he feared that the sparrow wouldn’t share the same excitement. Because his worry always trumped his happiness. 

The ghost nodded in agreement to her words, expression growing grim. Hearthwood had a delayed response in dealing with their own outlier; he did not want the same thing to happen to their neighbours. There was no reason for Whitestone to issue an attack on a river wolf—they had done nothing wrong. As far as XIX was concerned the two packs had been getting along swimmingly, unless something happened that he was not aware of. Which he intended to get to the bottom of, quickly. "I feel the same," he agreed with a frown, ears twitching. "There has been no tension between our packs, I don't see a reason for them to attack us." He did not want to lose such a valuable ally so easily, no matter how badly he wanted to tear the white wolf's face off.

Dumbfounded, he stared at the blue-eyed sparrow, a single brow resided. How did she not know what he meant? If she had never been around other females in late spring, or had a litter herself, she would not know the smell or what it felt like. Lachesis had been familiar with it ever since following Maksim to Cut Rock, for he and Kisla had several litters before his untimely passing. But Lilya… she was a war veteran, nowhere near the nursing dens. After a brief pause the corners of his lips lifted, his chartreuse gaze softening as he studied her confused expression. "You're uh… we're gonna have our paws full soon," he started with a sheepish expression, his head tilting slightly to the right. "Guess we found a way to increase Hearthwood numbers…" he added as an afterthought, amused by his own discovery. It was why he and Naia had had a litter the previous spring—out of necessity for the pack. This, however, had been unplanned and was a result of underlying emotions between the two wolves. "Sorry?" He offered hesitantly while waiting to see if she finally understood what he had been trying to spit out.

“There won’t be a war,” he assured the blue-eyed sparrow, his lips dipping into a frown. Unless there was a sliver of a chance that the Hearthwood wolves would end up on top, XIX did not want to start a war they could not finish. He was angry, and he knew that Kisla would be too, but he wanted to give their neighbours the benefit of the doubt. Just this once. No matter how badly he wanted to react with teeth and claws. Either the monadnock wolves had severed their alliance with a fight, or they had a rogue making reckless decisions.

Decisions that could hurt the northern pack significantly. Lachesis had grown to like their neighbours, but he did not know if he could trust them any longer.

Especially with puppies on the way.

The ghost watched as her expression changed, his own growing somber as he waited for her to say something—anything. Worry consumed him as the silence thickened between them. What if this wasn’t what the sparrow wanted… what if she did not intend on a future with XIX. Doubt began to make itself present; choking him, devouring him.

Until she spoke.

He couldn’t stop the laugh from tumbling off his cherry tongue, a lop-sided smirk tugging at his lips. It was true—not only was the agouti queen going to be angry about the attack, but she also was not going to be pleased at discovering that Lilya was pregnant. It was not something the ghost had intended to happen. He wasn’t even sure if he was ready for a second litter, especially since he had failed the first one. His son had gone in search of the dragon and his fabled tales, while his daughter had gone to bring her brother home. Their absences lengthened and he worried that he would never see them again. He could not go through that again.

“No, no, he would not have hurt them,” the ghost answered quickly as he pressed his nose to her cheek. It was too soon to do any damage to the life inside of her. Had it been any later, Lilya and their children might not have been so fortunate. Which only angered the ghost even more. Had the rogue known of her condition? Was that why he had attacked her without warning? He dismissed the thoughts as soon as they entered his mind, his peridot’s focused on the sparrow. “I, uh… sorry,” he apologized again, not knowing what else to say. Now he was worried about what Kisla would say.

The corners of his mouth twitched at her comment. She was not wrong—they were both at fault. Truthfully Lachesis would not have it any other way. He had cared about Naia, too, but that was different. Their relationship was completely platonic; they had been packmates since the days of Pitch Pine Trail and held a deep respect for each other. Their puppies had been the result of necessity—to increase the Hearthwood numbers and unite the pack. It had worked until his children decided to leave the Kingswood. One was trying to chase after some dragon fables and the other wanted to bring the first home. When he wasn’t monitoring the borders of Hearthwood or patrolling the lowlands the ghost retreated to the mountains to try and catch wind of his children. Their scents, however, were quickly covered by the persistent snow and it was nearly impossible to follow their trails.

He just hoped they would return to Hearthwood soon.

Her next statement caused his features to darken as his ears collapsed against his skull. “I will not allow that to happen,” he promised as he brushed his nose to her cheek. “You are the one good thing I have left in Hearthwood, Val. If you get chased out then I’m coming with you,” he added with a firm nod. He meant every word. Whatever was going on between the two worry warts was important to him—he could not lose her, too. She meant far too much to him for her to be whisked away. She might not be a leader anymore but he was. While they had been caught up in the moment this was also beneficial to the pack, as he did not know if Kisla was going to be having a litter this year.

Hearthwood needed this.