Morag nudged Antonin, nodding towards the brunette with the baby. 'Hestia Jones,' she murmured. 'Runs the werewolf clinic in town.' She shook her head. 'Alone with a new baby,' she said, frowning.
Actually, it wasn't the new baby that was bothering her. It was the alone part. It was a thought that had preoccuppied her mind for days. She'd already flipped out with Antonin once, and she was trying to keep a lid on her emotions, but her mind was proving more difficult.
As her dreams could attest. She'd been in numerous battles, killed wizards in cold blood, been in fear for her life on more than one occasion, but never had she had a nightmare before the realization that Antonin could have died with that illness.
And the stress was taking its toll on her. And on her mood. Which she was blaming on the headache.