Rethe had always loved her father. Always. Her momma had often joked that Rethe would always move the most when Fell was near, especially when he took the time to try and speak. His words had always been precious to Rethe, little tokens of his love that she carried with her and cherished. She saw how much each syllable cost him, how much effort it took just to offer an answer. So as he began to list the names of her newest relatives she grew very, very still lest a rustle of her tail steal away the sound of his voice.

Uprising. Rollo. Alister. Arcerys. She had not met these children yet, but as she memorized each name, she vowed silently to watch over them and protect them. They were her family, and she would not leave her family unprotected.

"So many already," she breathed, both thrilled and disappointed that she had missed their births. Rethe didn't have any particular interest in childbirth (the whole concept seemed unbearably messy and dangerous to her), but she wanted to know these babies. And she wanted them to know her. Mostly, she wanted them to know that she would always be there for them if they ever needed her.

She didn't want any of them to feel as lonely as she had when her momma left.

"How many more?" She asked, a smirk on her lips. She knew how many more pregnant mommas there were in the Bay through her (mostly) thorough head counting, but she wanted to feel his lips tickling her again. His affection and approval were something she could never get enough of. Plus, though Rethe never really thought of her father as a casanova, she suspected that he sometimes had other children that didn't live here with them. She couldn't help but be perpetually curious about those that lived elsewhere.