The birth of her pups, and the arrival of their father soon after had very nearly broken her. But the news that came soon afterwards had soothed and mended her soul, it had caressed her mind in such a lovely and intangible way- her insides had felt warmth for the first time in seasons. She had smiled, and almost, almost laughed after Eden had left, she had nuzzled her children and had drawn them close to her side to sleep and nurse. She wanted, more than anything, to keep them safe now, she had taught them to stay far away from the slippery cliffs, to wade only up to their stomachs in the ocean, to avoid the rough tides and the sea lions. Ehiyeh would not baby them, she would not hover over them, they must be smart enough to know how to keep themselves alive. Nature was unforgiving, but it was impassive. It taught them worthy lessons.

She was lounging inside her den today, tail idly flicking back and forth across the rock floor of the seaside cave. Pagan and Adonai were slumbering next to her side, and her violet eyes flickered to them occasionally, but she did not make it a point to watch them closely. They must be smart to survive in this world, and she would not always be there to protect them. It was best they learn now, in Glorall where the land was forgiving. Sand was soft, and the pinch of a crab's claws only hurt enough to scare. A wolf could hurt, a wolf could kill- she had heard what had happened to her half-sister, born of a woman from Taviora. Ehiyeh was largely disgusted with the world in which she was forced to live in.

Her ears perked at the sound of a quiet voice from outside. For a moment, her lips lifted in a silent snarl, protectiveness over her children outweighing her ability to reason. It only last for a moment, though, as the younger female continued to speak. "You may come in." Ehiyeh called, her raspy, airy tones lifting outwards from the den's entrance. "My children are healthy. There is little room for weakness in my family." Certainly, Samia was aware of her father's perspective on weakness. Her children, had they been born imperfect, may have not survived past their first night. She did not state that sentiment, however, moving onwards to speak of her own health.

"I feel weary, fatigued, but not more than usual, I do not think. Do what you wish to make sure we are healthy, Samia the healer." She rested her head against the cave floor, but one violet eye remained trained on the other female, should she try anything... unsavory.