Count on It [puppy birthing]

Quote:

The sire would happily look at his children, his wife, their perfection available for the world to see, yet for him to hold. The brute would swallow their entire scent, his ache to protect them burning ever so fierce. His head would continue to lovingly nuzzle her own, "Gael, it's perfect," and upon saying those words, voicing the perfection of what was here, he would rise, "Soleil...I must revive Valhalla. This family needs a place where protection and love is constant, Valhalla always possessed this," his head would turn and he would stand, "Let them nurse, I will return," The brute would only be gone a bit, building a shelter for them throughout the next hour, it was there they would stay until he found a good and proper territory for them to call their own, he would supply for his beloved powerfully, he would do so dutifully, and without call to fail. There was no room for the deep shaded male to just give up. No one had ever given up on him. In Valhalla. The rest of the world, eh, that was negotiable.