(Strained, desperate): No, please no…we promised our pups that we’d come home…that you’d come home…Bella.

*Sobbing*

(Resigned, shaky): Storm, what am I going to do? My pup’s can’t be raised here, they can’t be raised in the pack that… *a sob escapes his throat* that treated me less than dirt, just because of my blood. They’ll do the same to them, you know. Treat my pups like living hell!