Sita hoped for a girl.
Her son offered her shelter in the safety of what seemed to be her family's new pack. Let by her son. She was a proud mother. And perhaps she would have been more excited to see her family if she wasn't immediately drawn to find a place to den. She'd already made one, but miles away now. A new one it was.
So that had been Sita's focus. Finding a suitable place to make her den that wasn't intrustive on the kindness of her family. Guilt did pick delicately at her as she dug, reminded with every pedal that this pup would be gifted with a father. And her elder children were not. She was a terrible mother now intruding on their happiness with nothing to offer but gaping mouths. So she didn't want to be a bother and maintain what dignity she had. What positive thoughts she could hold onto. Maybe it was hormones. Maybe it was reality.
But she'd constructed her den in a location appropriate for her station. When the sun rose on the final day, Sita felt the familiar stirrings of labor and howled out a notice for her family and the rest of the pack. And then she retreated into her den, stretched out, breathing through unpleasant contractions and listening for approaching paws.