Redhawk Caldera uncast shadow of a southern myth

As it so happened, Finley was in fact puking her guts out when the howl sounded. For the life of her, she couldn't remember being so sick when she was pregnant before. It was a fact that likely contributed to her complete obliviousness to her first pregnancy for the first couple of weeks. And as she dry heaved over the drying carcasses of the locusts, she rather missed that state of being. How nice to have no symptoms to worry about, and to be completely unaware that she was carrying puppies in such a desperate, dangerous time. But no, not only was she to suffer the belly ache of hunger, but of likely pissed off infants that were hopefully not starving within her. Apparently reproduction was just always going to be a bitch for the Blackthorn family.

When finally she managed to get to her feet and head towards the alpha's call, she was very pleased to find herself only a short distance from the gathering pack. Finley approached on shaking legs, oblivious to whatever was being discussed as she sat weakly beside her mate. She leaned on him for support, willing her empty stomach to shut the fuck up for a few minutes until she could go back to being sick and frightened as hell about it in private.