Philotes blinked a the confusion her friend displayed. It was causing her to be confused herself. What was the source of the problem here? Had she not been clear? When Harmonia asked if she knew any of them, Lottie was caught even further off guard.
“Of course you do,” she answered. “You're surrounded by them. You were just talking to one of them. She gave you a toy.”
Then her face cleared, as abruptly understanding broke over her. “Oh! You thought I meant... no, I have not actually given birth to any of my children. But that doesn't make them any less mine. I watch them laugh and love and make friends and lose friends and make new friends again. I watch them grow up and start families of their own and then give me even more children. I know it's not the same as what you're going through right now, but I love them all, Harmonia. Each and every one of them. I'll love yours too. Not as much as you will, not as deeply as you will, but just as steadfastly as you will, just as long as you will, and I will watch over your little ones like they were my own too.”
There was a small pause, then Lottie asked in a little voice, “Do you think I should have one of my own?”
It wasn't something she'd really considered before, not even when she found Harmonia in her current state. But now that her friend had forced her to look at children as a whole, maybe she could admit she'd been missing out on something. Some part of the experience. She could admit that sometimes she was a little jealous of those mothers that got to breastfeed their little ones, but Lottie would sing and only the children would hear her. She would play with them, hiding being trees, guiding them around deeper parts of streams. She watched over them. She loved them. Should she give birth to one herself?