If their family was a strange thing, it did not matter. Bandy-legged, freshly born Delano looked like a miniature, carbon-copy of his strawberry-hued parent. Frog paler, more delicately boned than that of Bug. A family of Pucks traversing their dungeon, one with the dungeon itself. What was there to fear amongst lava-strewn caverns and mossy halls, when they had each other?

When the next came, it was not merely of one or the other. Not so simple as all that. Moss, when they came, was all of theirs. Twin and sibling to Delano regardless of the actual passage of time. Hours or days, when Moss came, ears flicked and tails shook, blue and green and pink alike, as they watched the newborn take the same steps Delano had not long before.

"They're green," Frog commented off-handedly, difficult to tell whether she was pleased or not, to share the colouration with the newest of the clan.

"They're so small," Delano said, although he was not yet much bigger. He wobbled a little, as he stepped forward to nose at the fresh foal, catching himself on Cambridge who huffed softly, pushing him back to standing.

"He's perfect," Frel said. Far easier to tell with them that they were happy.

Bug looked over the rest of them and shook his great head, agreeing. Of course he was.