Swiftcurrent Creek You don't know how lucky you are

Njal's embrace was strong and soothing as the heavy muscle of his neck draped across Tuwawi's saffron withers like a great cloak of protection to hide her from the nefarious horrors of the world. The roguish Tortuga wolves were not the first, nor would be the last, invaders upon their low-laying land within the ripe Rising Sun Valley, and even though this stunt has caused waves of grim unease within her beloved, Tuwawi still felt security radiate from his being. She breathed him in as they pressed together, his alpine bouquet magnified by the dewy rain, and staggered forward when he pulled away, off balance without him for support. The styngian dusk partially hid Njal's worried features, but Tuwawi offered a knowing glance as he urgently led his wife to a safer glen, away from the pungent scent of blood, seawater, and death.

She complied without contest, willingly guided by her wiser half's pressing stance while only vaguely aware for the reasons behind it. What she did not understand she did not question, and only echoed her husband's rumble with her own contented purr. Farther from the scene of the crime, Tuwawi's posture relaxed, anguish somewhat pacified by his presence. Despite this, her heart remained cored by the abrupt hijacking of her smallest sister. 'I will find her,' Njal said, tone uplifted by this convicted, honorable promise. However, a streak of panic crossed his wife's features, indifferent to his noble words. The southern ember might have had half a mind to depart with him to reclaim Bones for Swiftcurrent if circumstances had been different; but with the myriads of intruders and new recruits alike, Tuwawi felt exposed and vulnerable.

"No," she said sternly, only to falter, surprised by her own bold voice. She cleared her throat, not wanting to speak an ultimatum, "ah...no, Njal. Leave it to the others. I need you here. We need you here." Of course, the word 'we' didn't necessarily imply the pack... but the small family Tuwawi carried. The same selfish instinct which had prevented the fireblood from chasing after Bones reared its head again, and demanded the she-wolf to keep her mate, her provider, close despite the network of familial relationships within the creek pack. Her heartstrings were tugged when the fact that Bones was disposable, while Njal was not, brewed heavy in her mind. Her voice became soft, "our children, Njal." She was loathe to speak of something so wonderful amidst such terrible conditions. Her eye line swept away from the Russian's molten gaze, to regard the plumpness of her own brunette abdomen, noting how it appeared to grow every day. Indeed, her husbands seeds had been well-sowed within her womb; her own fertile body embracing his virile gift with open and welcoming arms. Tuwawi's lids fluttered, either from the drizzling rain or emotional torque, and she exhaled with a shuttered breath.