Lótë's due date was fast approaching, this pregnancy progressing with much more ease than the last. Perhaps it was the number of pups. Only the spirits knew how many the cloudberry carried this summer but already the three-year suspected this litter would be smaller; the fallow swell of her belly was not so distended as last year nor had she suffered as many symptoms. But this was not say that the dusk rose was completely without discomfort as she left behind the ulaq and made for the (unofficial) borders. 

With the time to whelp closing in, Aiwëndil felt an urgent need to round the edges of their claim and make sure they were scented heavily -- even more heavily than before. They could not completely keep wanderers out but perhaps those with propriety would circle around when faced with the strong perfume of a small village and an expecting mother. Or at the very least the thought of facing a protective clan would drive them to find another route. 

A beige ear flickered back at the sound of Keyni's voice, a smile crossing Lótë's lips as she drew to a halt and turned to face the coming silhouette of the willowish she-wolf. "Ilitannamek," the cloudberry lilted in greeting once her sister had closed the distance between them, reaching to touch her cheek against the other's in familiarity and affection. 

Her pace was slower now but she fell into step with Keyni cheerfully. "What have you been up to this morning?" came the herd-stalker's curious query. 

"Ah," Lótë sighed in understanding, as she turned to mark a tree in the opposite direction as Keyni, spreading their scents evenly along the path they laid. "It has been a hard winter. People will come in time," the dove murmured, similarly nonplussed. There were few villages in this corner of the Wilds -- not counting their allies whom had recently relocated. It was possible there wasn't much traffic through the area, though there was likely to be more loners wandering through as the seasons warmed. Their numbers were small but not nonexistent, they would see the ranks grow with patience. 

Lótë smiled, a secret smile, as they continued along and she marked another clump of shrubbery with her scent. One good thing about being heavily pregnant and patrolling -- her bladder seemed to constantly be full. 

After they had moved along the outer reaches of the conifer forest for a time, Lótë stopped with a sheepish expression to rest for a moment. "I had something I've been meaning to ask you," Lótë broached the topic in mind bashfully. 

"Well," Lótë began with a nervous, albeit excited, indraw of breath. She did not wish to keep Keyni in suspense but she faltered with her words for a moment -- something that had not happened since she had first begun speaking the common tongue. "I did not know your plans regarding motherhood this year...but I would welcome it if this was something you wanted," the paintwolf was quick to add as she segued into the topic at hand, though she found herself digressing when she brought up whether the wren would choose to whelp that summer. 

"But regardless, I know Kukutux and Aiolos share a hearth with me and they will likely visit the forest to help...but I thought with neither of us having a romantic partner to share parenthood with. Well, I thought perhaps I might ask you to be second mother to my cubs." The dove rambled more than she meant to, before realizing something. "Technically, third I suppose with Kukutux," she chuckled lightly, grateful that her children would grow up with such a close-knit community. 

"It is common in my birthplace for women who are close to raise their children together as I have done with moonwoman, to nurse each other's cubs and help care for them. I believe it is called a god mother here?" Lótë's head cocked, not as familiar with the customs in the south. 

Aiwëndil felt emotion of her own choking up in the fallow swathe of her throat: relief, happiness, and love for the gray-tipped she-wolf. She pressed her cheek against Keyni's with gratitude and warmth, a sign of affection amongst close relatives in her homeland. 

"I think the right man would," the dove mused aloud, her gaze dipping to the side as she thought for once of her own situation. It was not often she pondered on her own lack of romantic interests and how she'd yet to meet such a male herself. For a moment, the familiar loneliness that permeated much of her waking moments pressed in -- until the herd-stalker pushed it away again firmly. "I have learned that motherhood does not always require a lover. Neither does a family," her lips quirked crookedly as pale gems of jadeite returned to Keyni's own verdant gaze. While it was true that she longed to meet a man who would make a suitable husband and father (and for Keyni to as well), it was not necessarily needed for happiness to abound in her life.

Her eyes softened at the hint of Keyni having left home young. "We have that in common, my friend. I, too, fled home when I was little older than my first litter." It was an opening, an invitation for the willow-branch woman to speak to the cloudberry if she wished to discuss it. 

"I'm glad you're here," she murmured, hugging her rabbitskin sister again. "And I'm glad you will be Âjatsuk to my children."