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

Doe smiled kindly at the sweet girl, adoring her for her careful ways. Truly, the woman believed she would lead her pack well. "It is fine to speak of them in here," Doe said softly, moving to press a kiss to the other's brow. "Quietly, though. The spirits cannot reach us here, but our voices must not carry to them outside."

Leading, the swollen woman retired to the soft bed that she'd made for herself. It was big enough for the two of them to comfortably lie, and Doe's tail swept invitingly over the floor as she listened to Deirdre's 'plight'. Yellow eyes began to sparkle with mirth as the girl went on, describing what Doe had felt so completely for Szymon when they'd first met. To think that Deirdre had known Skellige longer but still felt the sweet flutters of first love was like something out of a fairy-tale to the red woman.

"Fear not, Lamb, it isn't sickness," Doe teased, a soft tsk falling from her lips. She did not know what had happened to Deirdre's mother, but she had gleaned enough from the young woman's scent to know that she was not present in her life. "What you feel is deep affection - it what women feel for men, Deirdre. Did your mother never speak to you of these things?" she explained, and then inquired. The question was a gentle one, though probing it might be. What a nuissance it would be for Deirdre to one day come into her heat - or, more likely, have a member of her pack come into heat - and have the pale queen be none the wiser.