Swiftcurrent Creek You don't know how lucky you are

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.