The nursery was full of tiny babies, that smelled of baby powder and milk. And as Doc Hope opened the door, there was another woman with her, a woman in a hospital gown. Doc pulled up short.
Standing between them and all the babies in their bassinets was a large grey and brown wolf. His hackles raised and his tail fluffed out. He growled at them.
‘My babies,’ that growl said.
Hope restrained a sigh. What was it with male werewolves and being close to multiple babies turned them into brooding hens. “Eb, this is Baby Hooper’s mother. She needs to see the baby.”
Eb growled again. ‘My babies!’
Eb threw his head back and howled. ‘MY BABIES!!!!’
Hope backed out with Mrs. Hooper. “Give me a moment.” She told the new mother. “I need to go find a newspaper.”
-Inspired by this tumblr post. To paraphrase, brooding isn’t sexy or mysterious, it’s being cussed out by 2.5 pounds of feathers that grows twice her size while trying to steal eggs.