Redhawk Caldera I don't like it, I love it

As he peered into the den, he could see Finley stirring. Even in the half-light that filtered in from outside, he was able to make out the curve of her belly and he smiled at the sight. She stretched and acknowledged him -- or, well, acknowledged the food he had brought. He grinned at the single word that she uttered; in addition to the weight gain and mood swings, she had also been insatiably hungry at times. This was apparently one of those instances.

"Just for you," Elwood promised, nudging the possum into the threshold with his nose. He pushed it between Finley's outstretched paws, then lowered himself to his stomach with only the front of his body in the den. His hindquarters and tail remained in the warm sunlight. He propped himself up on his elbows, yellow eyes bright as Finley presumably tucked into her meal.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment, although he already knew the answer: famished!