Blackfeather Woods night shift

She was close to the end of her first trimester. She did not think she was showing, at least to the untrained eye, but she felt it. She did not feel the flutter of life behind her skin, instead only feeling indigestion at best.

She countered these feelings with her herbs, which she gnawed on gently, the taste bitter as the juices released in her mouth, but she swallowed it down, and not a moment too soon. Her ears perked at the familiar sound. She leapt to her feet, excitement taking hold of her.

She ran to the border, all but ignoring the older, feminine cry and the sight of the white and black female as she approached the small brown figure. She smiled; he had grown. Seff.