Oh... That warmth... It's not what he would have expected to radiate from eggs on their own. Eggs need external warmth, and as a cold-natured creature, he has none to give. But it's coming within, and the words, however difficult they are to get out--

Clotted Cream lifts his head, just long enough to catch the movement of the basket-star from the corner of his eye. His hackles raise and his fins flare in threat, and he gathers the eggs to himself - no easy task - to back further away from the breaching tendril. What is going on outside? Is everyone alright? If whatever this invading force is has reached the shelter... His heart pounds in his chest, and he feels mildly sick.

But the babies can... help? He sucks in a breath, eyes flicking down to the eggs in his care just for a moment before going back to the tendril. "How can you help? What will you do?"