Stavanger Bay dream me the world, something new for every night

"Me?" Doe repeated, oddly gratified that the woman had come to call on her. Her one ear lifted in something like pride, but she still had a warm look for her young friend. They did not see much of each other, but Doe regarded the pale witch as family the same as the wolves of Blackrock. This did not extand to all of Donnelaith - at least not in practice - but her affection for Deirdre had reach a level sufficient enough to take that name. Not quite sisters, but something like it, perhaps.

"It's this way, just under the cliffs," Doe explained, thoughts of sisterhood slipping away as the more exciting prospect of children took hold of her mind. The woman, even with her widened middle, easily scaled the narrow route to her den. She'd taken the path too many times in the past weeks. It would not surprise her if she could have managed it in her sleep, or if her unborn children had memorized the dips and twists even from the womb.

The dusky shewolf ducked into the entrance and stepped quickly aside before pausing to allow her eyes to adjust, and to give Deirdre a moment to catch up in case she'd lagged behind.