The room went so quiet she could hear the torch burning.
Both chiefs stopped mid-step like someone had pressed pause on them.
"Pregnant," Roshan said slowly, like he was tasting the word for the first time.
"What does that mean?" Nyx asked, genuine confusion written all over his face. "What is pregnant?"
"She's carrying a cub," Mira said, before Faelyn could even work out where to begin. "Yours."
Three full seconds of complete blankness on both their faces.
Then something cracked open.
"A cub," Roshan said quietly.
"Our cub," Nyx said right after him.
They looked at each other, then at her stomach, then at each other again, and then both of them opened their mouths at the exact same time.
"But we both—"
"Which one of us—"
"Whose—"
"Three," Faelyn said.
Silence.
"...what?" All three of them, same breath.
"Three." She pressed her hand flat against her stomach. "I'm carrying three cubs."
Mira's composure cracked clean down the middle.
