"I'm fine," she murmured, though her words came out slurred at the edges, her fennec ears drooping so low they nearly touched her jaw. "I just need to sleep. Someone needs to be with the cubs."
"We've got them." Victor's hand curled around her shoulder, gentle despite the iron beneath it. "Sleep, little fox. We'll handle this."
She wanted to argue. She wanted to hold all four of them until her arms gave out from the effort. But her body had already made the decision for her, eyelids drooping, the room tilting soft and slow like she was underwater.
Hands, many hands, careful and impossibly gentle, began lifting the cubs from her one by one. The wolf cub went first, plucked into Ivan's massive arms with a whimper of protest. Then the purple-scaled boy, who fussed the moment he lost contact with her skin, little claws grasping at nothing.
"No!" Felicity tried to reach for them, her arm heavy as lead. "Don't.."
