Sun Mote Copse the silver knife

Had it been any other howl that roused Giana that night, she might've got up only to rip their throats out -- her stomach was cramping like never before, she'd peed five times in a twenty minute span, no amount or type of food could fill or appease the void that was her suddenly so fickle appetite, and overall she was just very, very hormonal -- but it was none other than the voice of the little flame that woke the Angelo from a fitful nap. 

Grumbling, Giana pulled herself to her paws and trod lightly from her hollow log den and made for the river -- she had no idea what was about to happen until she arrived to see a small gathering, and her storm eyes went to the tiny boy between Eshamun's paws. One of Asherahs children, she knew -- it was being sent on its way to Molech, and Giana had been called to watch. Why was beyond her, but her irritated expression soon morphed into one of understanding and then settled on sober before she'd rolled back on her haunches with a wince from the pull of her stomach on her small frame.