Redhawk Caldera sunshine on your toes

“Finley,” she whispered immediately. That was the only other wolf she would—could—trust. Sure, maybe she was slightly off her rocker, but she had been there to see the pups the most out of anybody, and she would surely be a better caretaker than the pups' own mother at this point. Wordlessly, Fox rose from where she'd been, the other pups squeaking in the background. She had almost forgotten they were there at all. Her ear twitched backward, but she exited the den just far enough.

Lifting her muzzle to the sky, her tone low and sad, she called for her best friend and the godmother that her first born would never know. Fox didn't even know what Finley's reaction would be. She waited there, hoping that somehow the glowing afternoon light might help her feel better. It didn't, of course. The chirping birds made her feel worse as did the warmth of the air, one of the first signs of spring.