Here come’s trouble

The hissing of the opossum was largely ignored, the rumble that left her chest at her sisters words was less full of love than those that had passed just moments before. "Yer know th’ expectations." Her orange eyes glittered sharply in the moonlight, considering her sister before her. "Surprised ter see you of all us defyin’ tradition..." There was a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, although there was also admiration in her tone to find her sister wasn’t pregnant. The expectation, of course, was that each of the daughters would do their part to further the Archer name, since the male children couldn’t be relied upon to do so. Each girl would leave the pack when her first or second heat came upon her and find a (usually disposable) male to fill her belly with children. Beyond the first litter, they were free to find mates and form more meaningful bonds, but their first litter should always be Archers. Even she had done so, as repulsive as she found the act. So repulsive in fact, she had left the children with her mother to raise. If the name mattered that much to her, she could ensure it’s continuance beyond creation.

"speech".