Phoenix Maplewood I don't have the right to ask where you go at night

Saena's tongue swept her jowls for the fifth time that afternoon, finding no traces remaining of the ptarmigan eggs she had found and devoured in the plains. She was pleased with her pack's success in finding eggs, pleased that she had managed to sate her craving, and pleased that the sun was warm and the sky clear above the maple wood. There was something relaxing about the earnest onset of spring. It washed her cares away from the surface, driving them deep into her mind only to emerge when she was alone in silence or late at night, and it gave her a necessary reprieve from the constant negative thoughts she'd been having.

She clambered unsteadily atop a fallen log, momentarily heedless of her safety despite the bulge of her belly and the prominence of her teats. A fall would be disastrous, but Saena was ever sure-footed and, as she expected, did not fall. She made it to the other side of the decaying log with only a few creaks and groans from the ancient wood and sprang to the ground only to wince as her forepaw protested when it hit the ground. With a light gasp, the female seated herself and gingerly lifted her foot to inspect it for damage.