Blackfeather Woods Night of the Living Dead

She was unsure if she should tell them all tonight; that she was pregnant. She did know for sure, but how would they respond? There was no one father, nor were any of them close or particularly important to the pack, at least she thought. She didn't have much time to ask.

But for now the witch waddled her way to the meeting grounds, a muskrat in maw. She shivered, already feeling the fur on her belly recede as her dugs begin to swell. She might as well tell them now.

She was rather late to the party, with most of the pack, even some new faces, already there. She dropped her catch, sitting next to Damien, a growling pit in her stomach as she gazed at Cicero. Or was it the babies?