He sighed. There was no winning with Aytigin it seemed. He would always beat to the sound of his own drum, which was both refreshing and incredibly frustrating. Especially when it came to his health. They had puppies to take care of—borders to tend to. He couldn’t risk having one of his subordinates injured, especially when two of them were on puppy-sitting duty. “Can’t have you limping around the borders, you’re going to make us look bad,” he retorted as he flashed the male a warm smile to let him know he was kidding. Sort of.

Is there anywhere to lie down in that den. XIX nodded immediately, dismissing the ebony male’s question with a flick of his tail. “The twins sleep in Lilya’s den. I don’t trust them around my inventory,” he answered with a soft laugh as he motioned for the Guardian-in-training and his china doll to follow him. “There’s lots of room for you to rest.” As he stepped toward the dens Lachesis turned to the dove, a brow raised. “You’re more than welcome to stay there, too.” Despite the sparrow and XIX announcing their feelings for each other, the ghost didn’t always spend the night with her and their daughters. It was mostly due to his nocturnal behaviour, for he often spent his nights patrolling the Kingswood. Occasionally he would seek solitude within his own den, for he had dug out a secluded bed away from his herbs (and patients). With four wolves stuffed inside of Lilya’s den—two of them still growing—it was often cramped. 

“Lavender’s already tried,” he responded with a small laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement as they swept over his inventory, searching for the right plant to give to his wounded Guardian. The twins were not allowed in his den—not unless they were sick or injured—for he did not trust them around so many plants. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps one day their curiosity would turn to medicine and Lachesis would indulge them in the world of healing plants. For now he taught them the basics—when they wanted to pay attention. Which wasn’t often.

Once he’d fished something out of his organized piles Lachesis placed it in front of the ebony male and nudged it closer, his chartreuse gaze fixated on the swarthy male. “This will help with the inflammation,” he explained as he motioned at the scrub pine, an apologetic smile tugging at his lips. “Can’t promise it’ll taste good, it’ll help.” He turned to his blue-eyed dove, his features softening as he studied her pale features. “I’ll grab something from the caches for you two,” he added as he stepped back through the entrance of his den. The pale leader moved quickly as he headed along the path toward the closest cache. He would bring back a pair of squirrels for the two weary river wolves before he dismissed himself once more, this time to see where his children had disappeared to…