Ravensblood Forest convalescence

@Olive!

It was midafternoon and pleasantly cool when the smoke-and-shadow female caught and killed a young marmot, plump and careless after having gorged itself on the budding spring shoots. Judging by the hour, Lotte surmised that if Olive was suffering any residual pregnancy-induced illness, she’d be through with it by now. The young mother-to-be, ignorant of the fact that nausea was for some unfortunates an all day kind of deal, moved at a quick clip toward the den the pale sylph and her dark knight shared. Lotte meant well — surely it would be difficult for the injured twain to hunt during their recovery, and it was likely they didn’t want to be separated — but when she reached the clearing a feeling of trepidation settled in her gut. The unease bloomed, twisting uncomfortably and sending little shocks of genuine physical discomfort through her system. Placing the marmot between her forepaws, she leaned forward and dropped her hips to stretch her lower back and hindquarters, working out the odd, taut feeling centered in her lower abdomen.

There was an additional motive — though not necessarily ulterior — for Banríon’s wanting to meet and speak with Olive. Whether it was due to the jarring nature of their meeting or the upsurge of hormones she’d been experiencing at the time, Lotte just didn’t have a good first impression of the flighty woman. The fact that Olive was so close to term didn’t help matters; the impatient rogue checked her lean, athletic musculature daily for any discernible physical changes that would prove to her — and to the rest of Teaghlaigh — that she was Arturo’s mate and worthy of her title, but aside from certain unmentionables, she always seemed to come up short. Lotte and the rest of her family had always possessed hearty appetites, and the fact that she was hungry all the time could easily be attributed to her own continued convalescence.

Swallowing her worries, Lotte howled softly, hoping the woman was home to hear it.