Dak would have to deal with the cats. He could handle anything they could dish out, but he didn't want them ganging up on Favel. They could do some damage to the baby, take his eyes, or a finger or two, a toe. The child would regrow them, but the trauma at so young an age could hurt him. Favel had already had enough trauma; he knew his parents were gone forever. Not how, but those special bonds, that loving bubble had been wrenched away. Replaced by the fierce love Dak and others had for him, but it was not the same as the enveloping love of a mother the babe had sensed since he'd been a seed in her womb. Brandy was cooing at her cats, soothing them. Tom-Tom had rolled onto his back and exposed his belly for a rub. She stopped and stroked them, muttering words Dak finally figured out were nonsense. "Oooh, you're purring!" Neither of the cats purred loudly in response to petting, which Dak considered most discourteous.
