Blackfeather Woods Because I'm a toy, toy

She had been sleeping as of late, conserving energy for the moment which was coming so quickly now. To say that she was frightened was an understatement. After watching her mother pass so soon after giving birth, and knowing how often women died during the process, Potema felt a knot in her stomach with every passing day that had little to do with the pups kicking inside her womb. She stayed near the Glen as often as she could, stocking her nest with herbs, pelts, whatever she thought would be necessary to bring her through it. Nemesis had lived through her children's birth, but Nemesis was stronger than she, a warrior. Potema's fights were of the mind, not of the body. She felt unprepared, and most of all, alone. Nemesis had some hatred for her children that she only attributed to jealously. Cicero was distant, as he always was. And Damien was gone. Damien, the one who so fervently pushed her to bear children for the Dark Brotherhood, was gone. That put a sour taste in her mouth. 

Her latest nap did not last her long. After a few moments of settling into her little nest, Potema was jolted awake. A howl. She paused and listened to it, staving off sleep to see if it was of any import. Her eye widened as she recognized the voice: Xan. She looked to her belly, nervous, remembering their coupling nine weeks back. She doubted that one of them were his, but he did not know she was pregnant in the first place. The witch lingered for a moment, breathing softly, quarrelling with herself in her mind until she finally hefted herself up and lumbered to the borders.

Xan, She called to him softly before she revealed herself, stomach and all. She exited the pale shadows of the Woods and sat before him, tail curled around her legs, her stomach visibly moving — so close to birth she was. Have you come back for good?