Sola takes the child from Edgar with a firm hand. "This is why I do not grab onto them when they are in battle." She set the youngling down and pointed with a firm hand. "Go! Back to the creche with you! Time for you to eat anyway."

Tars struggles up to sitting with the last few younglings hanging off his neck. He sweeps them up in a four-armed hug and clutches them close, even as they snap and snarl. "My warriors, you must go eat. It is the only way you will grow big and strong! Now go!" He sets them down and shoos them away before standing and dusting himself off.

His face settles into a cool, hard expression and he glances down at Edgar. "Not a word." Only the corner of his mouth twitches up.