She didn't know what had happened. She thought things were getting better in the Tarn, thought things were great between them. Had she missed something? Oh, but she couldn't leave to look. There was a small new son at her side who seemed to cry whenever she was too far. It was the cries that always sent her retreating back to the den earlier than expected. Granted she didn't have the heart to ever wander very far from her den site.
She was consumed by her thoughts as the soft patter of rain served as background noise, the chubby bundle of fur squirming at her side to summon her attention. The mother lifted her head from the den floor so that she could run her nose over his small form briefly before she returned to a lazy lounge. It would be obvious to anyone who stopped by that she was not in her usual mood. Perhaps lethargic would be the best word to describe her.
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