Redhawk Caldera fits of fire and falling feathers

The days that followed the birth of her second litter went by in blurred, seemingly endless succession. Where before their arrival she had cried for the fear of never getting to actually spend time with them, the fact that she had actually done so was a simple technicality. She slept most days and all through the nights, rousing herself only at the most urgent of squeaks and when her own instincts demanded she move them, cleanse them, feed them or otherwise settle their distress. Even then, it was not a guarantee that their pleas would wake her for she had two excellent caretakers in her mate and eldest son. Where she lacked, they stepped in, allowing the weakened mother the time she needed to recover.

When Finley awoke that day, it was to a level of consciousness that she had not experienced since before she'd given birth. It took her a while to coax her eyelids to stay apart, and even longer to lift her head from the ground. Her gaze was blurry still as she turned to peer at the little creatures at her side - two of which were sleeping soundly, snuggled against her stomach. The other was bustling about though, glomping random things in her mouth and then spitting them out with a gagging cough. For a moment, Finley simply watched with a slowly canting head as the odd little peanut explored her tiny world.

"Where did you come from..." Fin murmured, almost as if she didn't recognize that this was actually hers. The other two were identical to each other, and nearly identical to all of the other Blackthorns. So what was this other one doing there? "You're just a little weirdo, aren't you." In spite of the unfamiliarity in her words, there was warmth in her tone and in her motions as she reached to sniff at the little black puppy, finally meeting her for what seemed like the first time.