Ibis had been visiting the rock garden when the feeling came. It wasn't the same as when her quickening babies shuffled inside of her, but something deeper, less physical. A sense of impending danger, maybe - fight or flight, sort-of. This need to find shelter that rose up and overwhelmed her, causing her to rise too quickly from where she basked against the cool mossy stones and nearly trip herself. The stones looked soft but were actually quite rough to the touch, with the moss adding a slippery quality she found frightening in the moment. Ibis took care as she pranced from stone to stone, trying not to overwhelm her tiny body with the momentum of her swinging gut, and climbed down from her roosting place.
Then she trailed away from the garden. At first she slunk to where the dens nested in the roots of massive trees; she investigated a few of these with a manic glance or two, but did not go deeper in them. Reiko was likely hidden in one with her own children; the smell of all the wolves of the Empire wove across the tangled paths, and made the fur of Ibis' spine raise. She abandoned the dens promptly, moving further afield to an area within the Vale that was not well explored; the wolf scents were thinner here, almost non-existent.
Moss dominated this space too, and it was dark. The trees were almost too clustered to weave between them - especially in her currently corpulent state - but Ibis was too focused on this need for shelter to care about her discomfort. She wedged between some trees, scrambled over logs, slipped on moss and rebounded back to her paws with a wince, driving herself through the barriers and over the obstacles as they came up before her. If it was a struggle for even the tiny Queen to maneuver through, surely larger wolves would turn back -- how odd, she thought in the back of her mind, that she would seek out a space so harrowing and defensible.
When she came up for air, so to speak, the moss-choked forest dipped in to a small field of green that reminded her of the garden, but also of the clovers lining her father's claim. It brought to mind a sense of calm and safety, while the towering old growth forest bowed around her like the weeping trees of her mothers; it was perfect. It was small and dark, and the roots of these old trees formed a network of possible den mouths.
Ibis began to work at the dirt with her slim little paws, clawing and tugging with her teeth to uproot some of the green. Once she began to cut in to the soil she became so focused that she did not stop, scooping at the dirt and clearing debris as it surfaced, working, working, working, until her paws were so black with mud she couldn't see where they ended and the den began. Once the mouth was wide enough for her to insert herself shoulder-deep in to it, she worked at the rest: carving a spot for herself and her unborn.
When she finally stopped to rest, it was dark. The summerlight had faded to deep purples and blacks, the stars dazzling overhead, but she saw none of this. She sank to her haunches at the den mouth, then to her chest, finding respite upon the cool moss, and fell asleep within moments — exhausted.
Then she trailed away from the garden. At first she slunk to where the dens nested in the roots of massive trees; she investigated a few of these with a manic glance or two, but did not go deeper in them. Reiko was likely hidden in one with her own children; the smell of all the wolves of the Empire wove across the tangled paths, and made the fur of Ibis' spine raise. She abandoned the dens promptly, moving further afield to an area within the Vale that was not well explored; the wolf scents were thinner here, almost non-existent.
Moss dominated this space too, and it was dark. The trees were almost too clustered to weave between them - especially in her currently corpulent state - but Ibis was too focused on this need for shelter to care about her discomfort. She wedged between some trees, scrambled over logs, slipped on moss and rebounded back to her paws with a wince, driving herself through the barriers and over the obstacles as they came up before her. If it was a struggle for even the tiny Queen to maneuver through, surely larger wolves would turn back -- how odd, she thought in the back of her mind, that she would seek out a space so harrowing and defensible.
When she came up for air, so to speak, the moss-choked forest dipped in to a small field of green that reminded her of the garden, but also of the clovers lining her father's claim. It brought to mind a sense of calm and safety, while the towering old growth forest bowed around her like the weeping trees of her mothers; it was perfect. It was small and dark, and the roots of these old trees formed a network of possible den mouths.
Ibis began to work at the dirt with her slim little paws, clawing and tugging with her teeth to uproot some of the green. Once she began to cut in to the soil she became so focused that she did not stop, scooping at the dirt and clearing debris as it surfaced, working, working, working, until her paws were so black with mud she couldn't see where they ended and the den began. Once the mouth was wide enough for her to insert herself shoulder-deep in to it, she worked at the rest: carving a spot for herself and her unborn.
When she finally stopped to rest, it was dark. The summerlight had faded to deep purples and blacks, the stars dazzling overhead, but she saw none of this. She sank to her haunches at the den mouth, then to her chest, finding respite upon the cool moss, and fell asleep within moments — exhausted.
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