Dragoncrest Cliffs watch those words rise with a smoke

If Thuringwethil ever wondered what it would be like to have children of her own, it had never been something she dwelled on for long. It was never more than a fleeting thought of simple wonder. As she faces the reality of Wildfire’s pregnancy, it is not the same as if she were to carry. The desire has never been there and two pregnant females in the pack have only been a flicker of irritation most days but nothing more than that. She doesn’t necessarily understand the need and she’s certain she may never know or, in a few days, she’ll know I all too well.

She’s known the woman more or less since she’d been born and there’s always been gentleness for the younger wolves she’d only consider to be motherly (as much as Thuringwethil could imagine being motherly). The prospects for Tirgatao are limited, she inwardly acknowledges, but she can’t help but wonder if there’s something she could do for her. Her tail twitches and she shifts awkwardly to make herself a little more comfortable. She feels the strong pull to say something else but she doesn’t find the right words; she likely knows everything she can think logically to say.

“You will be a great mother,” she tells the woman. If she could comfortably turn and boop her muzzle against her companion, she would, but she offers a smile anyway.