"Oh." He had not thought about shoes. Her shoes anyway. He'd only brought one other person to see his dragons, and she'd been slightly more prepared in the work boots department. Growing up on a farm would do that to a girl. "Here. I have to stop at my locker for my boots anyway. We'll steal one of the other keepers. There's a good bit of snow." While the paths were cleared, they were cleared in the loosest sense of the word, and they tended to drift back over The reserve had very few female keepers, but one of them had to be close to Kate's size. They could get her her own boots later, if she liked the dragons. If she hated the dragons, he supposed they never had to come back. Well, she never had to come back. He couldn't stay away even if he wanted to. His kids needed him and he needed his kids.

But she was going to love the dragons because he did. Because everyone did. Everyone loved dragons. Or they were lying.

He stopped at the locker first and for most to switch to his work boots, because dragons bit through trainers. His mother would be appalled to know he'd worn muggle clothes to his wedding. The red jumper which was his favorite, jeans, and trainers, and a very legal ceremony with just himself Kate and the next couple in line as witnesses. It was much better than dress robes and fancy parties. If he'd had a real wedding, half his friends wouldn't have been able to attend anyway. Nigel wasn't pureblood, neither were several of his co-workers that he would have wanted to invite. He also left the plain gold ring in the locker. Because handling dragons with a ring on seemed like a bad plan. Not that he didn't want to wear it. It was just likely to get lost, or burnt, or chewed on. Gold was not in the dragon's diet.

Once he had successfully stolen a pair of boots for his wife from one of the keepers who was not working. He lead her out down the trail, his finger's laced between hers. He talked a little along the trial as they walked to the end, where he helped her over the fence and lead her back to the North barn. "This is where I spend most of my time. We've only got three pairs on the nests outside. So its not too much work out there. Then Fen and Bo insist on staying directly behind the barn." They were waiting for their yearlings. When it got warmer outside, Nat planed to bring the kids out to see their parents every so often. Welshes were not exactly great parents, but the Fireballs seemed to want to be. Maybe their next round in a couple years he'd find out.

"I was thinking in April or May we could take a honeymoon," he commented, taking off his coat and took hers to hang up. To China. He wanted to take her to China, mostly because he wanted to see that many Fireballs. And the keepers there had to have some really interesting notes on their behavior. Everyone wanted to know what dragons were useful to wizards for. Nat just wanted to know more about dragons. "The last of the clutches should be March first, and we'll probably be moving the Hebridean yearlings in June or July depending, so, April or May would be the best time for it."

He heard Grete's footsteps before her grating voice sounded through the keeper areas of the North barn. He gave a small apology grin to Kate, before turning to meet the very angry face of his relief keeper. Though to be fair, she probably should have been the Primary nursery keeper. She'd worked there longer, and had more experience. But Nat was a Warwick and getting published. Gavin had been right, those kind of things paid off. He understood her anger towards him, but the pitch of her voice was still the most unpleasant thing Nat had ever experienced.

"Warwick. Go. Home. I have this covered."

"I'm not here for you today, Grete." And while he really intended for that to be true, he would absolutely end up correcting everything she was doing. It wasn't his fault she was doing it wrong. He liked his dragons kept a certain way. "Kate, this is Grete another keeper here. Grete this is Kate, my wife."

"Fantastic. Go home, Warwick."

"We're gonna check on the Fireballs." Nat glanced down at his watch. "Its almost time to feed the Hebrideans. Diet is prepped on the…"

"I know where you keep things," she snapped. "Don't let your wife get eaten"

Nat rolled his eyes as Grete flounced off. "They can't actually eat you. Even the Welshes aren't big enough to eat you, yet. And they're seven months today." He lead Kate down the hall to the large stone room where the yearlings were living. Two of the three clutches at any rate. The Welshes were out in one half of the room, the shift doors in the middle were now closed with the Hebridean's on the other side. The Hebridean's being less than a month old were much smaller than the Welshes. "They have colored bands on their wings so we can tell them apart." He pointed out. He'd given them all names. They weren't technically supposed to have names till a year. The death rate among yearlings was high. It was one of Nat's projects. So far he'd not lost a yearling since Gertie. Knock on wood.

"Good morning." He patted the head of Gawain with the green band, who stuck his face out between the columns. "So the Welshes are about… a third? of full size? They'll hit their full size at about two years. We try to keep them in the nursery till they're a year at least, but we'll probably have to move these guys out earlier." Because really, he did not have space for three clutches, or the fourth that was hatching this week, or the three more that were still on the nests. "Yellow and White are female. Blue, Green, and Red are male." Gladys, Glenda, Gareth, Gawain, and Gerald. "The blacks are all female and only nineteen days. But Dragons are pretty self sufficient from the get go, so."

They were only keeping the Fireballs separate because they were a much smaller breed. And Fen and Bo insisted on residing next to the wall outside of the room they were kept in. Which was sweet. Inconvenient, but sweet.