back dated to like idunno 4/23, she's 6 weeks pregnant.
Getting down the mountain took quite awhile. After all, she was only getting fatter and more uncomfortable. Her stomach felt like it was full of some rowdy squirrel that she had eaten whole and alive, and now it was trying to escape. Occasionally the squirrel would stop fighting, and usually hole up somewhere by her bladder or something—a lovely experience all around. Alastor helped her by finding a better perspective from which to view the situation. The squirrel was his idea, because to Sahalie it felt like there was a little storm cloud inside of her that had come to life with an electric vengeance. At this point she had decided—but hadn't yet brought it up—that she was quite sure, "I think we'll only be having one."
This came out of her mouth almost as a consequence of her settling down against a nearby, budding willow tree. Having a squirrel inside her made talking and walking just too much effort when she was already nauseous and trying to keep it together. She saved most of her chatter for their breaks. At this point it was unlikely that they'd make any more progress for the day. There was little light left in the waning red light of April, and thoughts of coyotes still plagued their minds. Part of her hoped that they'd left all the rotten mutts on the other side of the mountain, but as she gazed around looking for some suitable place to finally crash she remembered one of the last times she had been in this area, as a little girl swarmed by coyotes and rescued by a wolf from Willow Ridge. Wraith.
She blinked. Actually, Willow Ridge would have been nearby. Obviously. The trees were enough of a clue there. Her first thought was of Sven, and how he was fairing and if he had realized all his dreams and if he—she looked at Alastor. Those thoughts were probably better left buried.