Misty rain veiled Swiftcurrent's sunless day as the weather ebbed from downpour to drizzle throughout the afternoon. The lush greenery of the territory basked in the inclement weather and smaller creatures like slugs and toads wormed out from their hiding places to enjoy Spring's eve. It was still and quiet, besides the noisy pattering of drops all around, though the grey pall overhead reflected the creek pack's sullen mood.

Bones had been abducted. Taken. Violently torn from the family she had forged in the valley. The wolves of Tortuga knew no mercy as they reclaimed their sea-born, and the battle had been fierce despite the gunmetal adolescent's plea for sanctuary. Fox, Bazi, Ferdie, and Jace fought tooth and nail to keep her here, maiming and killing those who dared defied them. The snarling feud and the howls for vengeance had wrenched Tuwawi from her burrow and she had raced forward into the fray. However, just before clearing the treeline, the ember had pulled up short. Through those murky branches she had watched, helplessly and unmoving in the dark, as the memories of Jinx's miscarriage shot through her brain like a bullet. The babes had slipped so easily from their mother's womb following the punch from the lion's paw, still and lifeless because they had been birthed before their time, and the image of fetal newborns still sleeping in their sacks shook the nearly indomitable Tuwawi. Her body had quivered, feebly lowering itself to hide, as she was reminded of the life she carried... the unborn who depended on her. And though she cared deeply for Bones' as a sister of the pack, instincts instructed the mother to not intervene in this fight.

It had ruined her — watching Bones be dragged away like a carcass against her will — and for the first time in years the Sveijarn felt the hollow weight of sheer helplessness. She retreated to her home, seeking comfort, but had found the den empty and lifeless, and when morning came Tuwawi set off to find @Njal . Her walk was stifled while water beaded upon her dampened topcoat as she trudged through the deluge, posture uninviting and somber. No longer was her figure so delicately curved. Pregnancy's physical changes had started to distort her image. Once her sides had been slender, and now they thickened. The smallest paunch, noticeable only to those who knew her best, began to grow at the root of her abdomen, though they thick fur of her belly still hid the growing teats that would soon feed her young. The other day she had felt so strong... embracing this new purpose with all the vim in the world as a fertile woman who had the capacity to breath life from passion. But now... in this dark, dark rain... she felt weak and hopelessly empty.

The search for her husband caused the ember to unwillingly round the southern expanse as she drifted to the place of the previous night's contention. Among the damp musk of a flooded wood laid the sharp scent of wolfsblood, still pungent despite the more delicate aromas of the season. It reminded her of cowardice, the inability to muscle forth and seize back their youngest patriot — her sister in arms — from the jaws of their noisome assailants. Tuwawi had not been able to overcome nature's desire to keep her own body safeguarded from the fangs of the pirate band, and though it was the most logical thing to do, she could not help feel guilt and fear writhe in her breast.

Other wolves had been bold, as well. Reports of vagrants mingling near their borders seemed to flood in daily. Though their wardens had been attentive to this plight, it still caused unrest within the Sveijarn mother. Was the pack safe here? Was there anything more they could do? Could they trust the creek's new members? These questions frequented her thoughts more often with each passing day. Though she was a strong woman — a warrior and huntress by her own right — the new responsibility of this maiden pregnancy spurred new worries within Tuwawi. She sought comfort the only way she knew how... and when Njal's gunmetal figure ebbed into sight, a wave of relief placated her troubles.

She approached her husband slowly, appraising his haphazard appearance with a discerning eye. It was clear Bone's abduction affected them all. "Njal-," she hushed as husband and wife inched toward one another to seek a familiar embrace. However, Njal was interrupted when a rogue bird burst from the underbrush, cutting the silence with its raspy cawing voice. His grizzled face swept 'round, flinching, prepared to face this foe... clearly on edge despite the lack of danger. Tuwawi's ears cupped her skull, pinned back onto her red, tussled crown as she watched the fowl disappear into the haze, equally disturbed by its raucous call. She blinked away raindrops as her gaze fell from the sky, rolling to settle on her mate's pale, silvery chest.

Njal always had this effect on her... to so easily uncover the root of her emotion when it remained guarded to everyone else. To Tuwawi, nothing was sacred; and her more private feelings always unwound in his presence. The ember's sooty tail curled weakly between her hocks to bat the joints in a slow wag when Njal enrobed her, lamenting together. These new expectations and responsibilities — these new weaknesses — were difficult to bear, and the vague image of a Sveijarn child being kidnapped was enough to send a shiver down her spine. Would she be a good mother? Tuwawi's face pressed into her paramour's damp ruff, finding peace even though her mountain had been shaken by the intrusion of the Tortuga wolves.

Njal's embrace was strong and soothing as the heavy muscle of his neck draped across Tuwawi's saffron withers like a great cloak of protection to hide her from the nefarious horrors of the world. The roguish Tortuga wolves were not the first, nor would be the last, invaders upon their low-laying land within the ripe Rising Sun Valley, and even though this stunt has caused waves of grim unease within her beloved, Tuwawi still felt security radiate from his being. She breathed him in as they pressed together, his alpine bouquet magnified by the dewy rain, and staggered forward when he pulled away, off balance without him for support. The styngian dusk partially hid Njal's worried features, but Tuwawi offered a knowing glance as he urgently led his wife to a safer glen, away from the pungent scent of blood, seawater, and death.

She complied without contest, willingly guided by her wiser half's pressing stance while only vaguely aware for the reasons behind it. What she did not understand she did not question, and only echoed her husband's rumble with her own contented purr. Farther from the scene of the crime, Tuwawi's posture relaxed, anguish somewhat pacified by his presence. Despite this, her heart remained cored by the abrupt hijacking of her smallest sister. 'I will find her,' Njal said, tone uplifted by this convicted, honorable promise. However, a streak of panic crossed his wife's features, indifferent to his noble words. The southern ember might have had half a mind to depart with him to reclaim Bones for Swiftcurrent if circumstances had been different; but with the myriads of intruders and new recruits alike, Tuwawi felt exposed and vulnerable.

"No," she said sternly, only to falter, surprised by her own bold voice. She cleared her throat, not wanting to speak an ultimatum, "ah...no, Njal. Leave it to the others. I need you here. We need you here." Of course, the word 'we' didn't necessarily imply the pack... but the small family Tuwawi carried. The same selfish instinct which had prevented the fireblood from chasing after Bones reared its head again, and demanded the she-wolf to keep her mate, her provider, close despite the network of familial relationships within the creek pack. Her heartstrings were tugged when the fact that Bones was disposable, while Njal was not, brewed heavy in her mind. Her voice became soft, "our children, Njal." She was loathe to speak of something so wonderful amidst such terrible conditions. Her eye line swept away from the Russian's molten gaze, to regard the plumpness of her own brunette abdomen, noting how it appeared to grow every day. Indeed, her husbands seeds had been well-sowed within her womb; her own fertile body embracing his virile gift with open and welcoming arms. Tuwawi's lids fluttered, either from the drizzling rain or emotional torque, and she exhaled with a shuttered breath.