Saul promised he would not tell her secret. Coli nodded in quiet acknowledgment, appreciating his confidentiality. She would have to face this sooner or later, but if she could control when and how she told her packmates, perhaps she could feel slightly less helpless about the whole situation. She flinched as a deep rumbling growl filled the sunny air around them, then ducked her head in embarrassment when she realized she had reacted to Saul that way. She had done the same thing to Ezra. "S-sorry," she quickly apologized. "And... I'm sorry if I've b-brought trouble to our borders... I don't want anyone to get hurt on my account." She felt guilty already for relying so heavily on their protection without providing any useful service in return. The garden was as much Saul's as it was hers, and soon she would be unfit to tend to it anyway.
It was just so hard to grasp. It didn't feel real, or she was simply in denial and could not accept it. Saul explained that he could not tell her anything now, but later he could at least figure out how many children were within her. Then she could think of names... If she had a son, she could name him after Conor... no, no, this was all too much, happening too fast. "I know so little about all this... How long do I have?" she asked in a hushed voice. "What are the odds of... my survival?" She swallowed audibly, grateful that Saul was still so close to her so that she did not have to raise her voice. She was so unprepared for all this. It was too late for her to change forms, but she remembered hearing it was easier for wolves to birth in their natural four-legged form. She could have doomed herself by her ignorance. "Saul, my... my mother died giving birth to me..." she added weakly, clasping both hands over her belly. It was a chilling possibility that she could have inherited the same genetic weakness, whatever had caused the fatal complications. Coli was a small wolf, and the dog had been much larger than her -- what if the hybrid pups were too big for her body? She was trying to calm herself and fight off the rising panic, but it was obvious by her shallow breaths and the rapid rising and falling of her chest that she was losing the struggle. Saul's voice was soothing, but his words were not. There was no easy answer to all these problems piling up around her.
He grew thoughtful as he seriously considered her question, then delved into his touching narrative. Coli listened raptly, letting his gentle story transport her away from the distress and chaos within her mind. Saul loved his son so much, even if Teme's conception had been an accident. Her heart ached, longing to feel that way about another being who could love her back. There was an interesting parallel between Temeraire and Colibri; as pups, both had been without a mother for one reason or another, and thrust upon their father unexpectedly as a last resort. The results could not have been more different, though. Teme grew up loved and cherished, and now as he matured into adulthood he was finding confidence and self-reliance as an emotionally healthy wolf. Coli, of course, fell down a less fortunate path and still found herself desperate for any kind of acceptance, with no self esteem to speak of. She was afraid the little ones growing inside her would already be tainted by her negativity. It hadn't occurred to her that she could make them feel wanted and loved, despite their heritage, and it could save them from the same fate she suffered. It was the reason she used to dream about being a mommy, wasn't it? To create a family she could love, and give them a better start than she had? Back then, of course, she imagined having a mate, but she could try the first act of bravery in her otherwise cowardly life, and be a good parent all on her own.
"You were scared?" she asked, managing to summon a dry chuckle of amusement. "That's hard to imagine... I mean, you must have done everything right... y-you'll give them advice, right? When... they come?" As leader, Saul had taken on the role of father figure to everyone in the pack. If his pure and noble values could be passed down to the next generation, he could help them remain good even if their mother failed them. He was gazing at her with a strange light in his green eyes, some mixture of heartfelt support and pity, as best she could interpret. "I, I'm very scared," she admitted meekly, though it was obvious from her body language. "So much could go wrong..." Could she even love them if they looked and acted like their sire? Or even worse, if they were like her sire? Could she be selfless enough to raise them if they scared her?