The fragile state of her mind had kept Ramona out of the midwifery game for years now, but every spring, when the air was as pregnant with promise as her patrons of old, the blind old codger felt a surge of excitement. It soothed her aches and made her feel young again, when the women with their gently swelling bellies and nervous energy had been her world - wolves and foxes alike.
She had woken before dawn, dismissed her entourage - even Damara, who was about as easy to get rid of as constipation - and trundled to the very edge of the forest to watch the colours. The burning red and orange was the only thing that could still cut its way through the white clouds that had settled permanently over her eyes. It hid a multitude of sins, too, brightening her faded pelt and taking attention away from the way her skin sagged on its old and bony frame. Childbirth had done that - season after season of childbirth, but Ramona liked her life story as it was.
Silent and more lucid than she had been in months, perhaps even the year, she watched the sun climb ever higher in the east.
Whee! :D
Since departing from the Blacktail wolf, Blue Willow, Tuwawi had lingered upon Blackfoot Forest's treeline throughout the night. Its eclectic vegetation and unique topography captured her interest as she combed the area for the herbs, now loaded with new knowledge in thanks to the healer. Yet, as night descended and the yowls of native foxes screeched in the pitch, the vermillion wolf chose to not dive too deeply past the treeline, save be rushed by her red, distant kin.
After many hours, the darkness passed, and soon a colorful dawn was upon the summer wolf to welcome the new day and brighten her already vivid pelt. Light burst through the dense canopy, and once again the creek wolf found courage to explore its depths. She could not stay long, lest be missed by her pack and mate, and so Tuwawi moved at a brisk pace between the groves of aged pine hopeful to learn more about this mysterious place.
During her exploration, she discovered a small mound of earth. Upon her inpection, Tuwawi became aware of an old fox mounted atop it, completely still in what appeared like meditation. This one had not retreated into the shadows like the others had, too frightened to come at the larger wolf without the assistance of shadows to mask their hot-colored skins, and so the summer woman paused, not entirely knowing how to approach it. Should she chase it off to make a point? Just ignore it and be on her merry way? Or try to communicate?
Ramona's grotty ears barely registered Tuwawi's footsteps, but her sense of smell had not yet given in to the effects of age. The Fox pulled a long, deep breath into her lungs, as if it was a field of flowers she was smelling and not the subtle aura of pregnancy that wafted off the red woman's back.
The fox's gummy mouth pulled into a thin, shaky smile. "Have you someone to care for you?" she asked, not bothering to turn her head in Tuwawi's direction - she had no senses of where the wolf was, just that she was there.
Tuwawi could not lie; she was honestly taken aback when the decrepit fox addressed her so casually. She was a gaunt creature — mostly skin and bones — with one large eye shrouded by milky white. Feebly she smiled, revealed a nearly toothless mouth. 'Have you someone to care for you?' the old wretch asked... her words freakishly knowing, though Tuwawi didn't directly connect the question with her own pregnancy at first. She snorted, half-disdain to be conversing with a rival fox so nonchalantly (however ancient it appeared).
"My pack cares for me. My mate cares for me," Tuwawi said wondering why she had even bothered to reply to such an antique, "why is it any business of yours?" The distrust which laced her tone was evident; defensive to a point which suggested a particular unease in her statement, though it was done so unconsciously. Tuwawi then approached the unmoving woman, coming so close as to nearly hover above the practically taxidermied fox.
Ramona chortle-wheezed and shook her head. The motion was stiff and jerky, like rusted farm equipment put to work. She didn't move when Tuwawi approached, but surely sensed it - stubby, kinked whiskers twitched around a nose that sniffed the air with keen interest.
"And they are midwives, are they? the geriatric fox queried, brows rising over unseeing eyes. The movement created a ladder of thin, crusty rolls on her forehead. "They'll know what to do if pup gets stuck, or comes out sideways?" Unlikely in a healthy pregnancy, and there was nothing obviously wrong with this one - but Ramona had swapped senility for brusque thoughtlessness today, and she would have her fill before descending back into the fog.