She had never been so uncomfortable in her life. Although her swelling sides barely showed after such a harsh winter, she felt as though the lives that grew within her had her stretched to the limit. Radiating pangs seemed to pass down her flanks at random intervals, causing her to pause in her tracks and consider just how far from the hollow under the tree she had chosen as her birthing den was (even if it was a little too early for the pups to be arriving).
Her journey to the Falls probably could have had far better timing but when dealing with the emotions of yearlings, a mother was left little choice. Truthfully, it was probably only her anger at the words that had been slung at her daughter like mud that had fueled her journey home, her out of control hormones causing her to swing from a singular desire to tear the Slayer lad limb from limb, and wanting to curl up in the protective embrace of Mapplethorpe and simply bawl her eyes out. It was to the yearlings advantage that by the time she had returned home, it was her mates scent she passed first, and so she decided to continue her waddling until his familiar tawny form came into view.
A small click of her tongue against her teeth and a heavy, exhausted sigh warned him to remain reclined. He may not think she had noticed the stiffness in his joints but she would not expect him to get up simply so she could lay down. Mindful of where her weight rested she settled next to her love and took a moment to consider her words. “We have a problem.”