Irina was pleased at Beartooth's excitement. This one, this one is Kruam, and then there's Kára and Rambaldi. Here’s Marigold, and Pyro. She patted her son Pyro on the head with her paw. When they were born, Marigold was coordinated enough to procure a spike of ice. Irina grinned at Beartooth. He was currently eye-level with Rambaldi. As for whether they’re Danes? That, we’ll have to see.

She pulled Marigold in tight to her, as she was trying to make off for the inner lands of Tarben. Stay here, Mari-you little terrorist, you. Irina smiled fondly at her children and Beartooth.
What’s new in your lands? she asked. Marigold whined, ”Momma, I want to pway!” She spun and playfully cuffed Kruam over the head. Irina couldn’t help but laugh. Later, Mari. The young mother nosed a sleepy Kára affectionately.
Irina looked at Beartooth, a smile on her face. Don’t worry, they will make great Danes. I’ll make sure they can have some exposure. She called a storm to wrap around the seven wolves. Marigold yelped as rain pelted her face, then Irina spun the clouds into a circle around them. Mari shook off her wet head, water flying onto Kruam and Pyro.
Irina felt something cold on her leg, and she looked down to see mist wrapping around her fur. Who is doing that? she demanded good-naturedly.