Dragoncrest Cliffs the flame will protect

portia wasn't far, per say, from her usual resting spot. it was either in her whelping den or in the cavern with wifi, but today she was just too antsy to sit still. the pups were coming, and soon, but portia couldn't give a smaller fuck. she knew her limits, and though she was fearful that she would harm to tiny lives growing inside her, she was still stubborn enough to do whatever she wanted. she snuck out when dio left, her tail wagging as she waddled happily through the territory. it was starting to get warmer, and the sun on her pale pelt felt awesome. she was happy-- until a loud snarl catches her attention.

being the nosey wolf she was, portia waddled over to check it out. it wasn't until she scented the heda that she really kicked it into gear, though she looked ridiculous moving with such a large stomach. she saw the scene-- though not the events that unfolded beforehand-- and let out a loud yell. it sounded something like words, but her voice was too high-pitched to truly tell what she'd said. she growled at eske as she came forward, a warning to back off if she hadn't already.

"heda!" portia said, her gaze narrowed and her brow furrowed, "you should not be sparring-- you are not healed, you are not healthy, you are at risk of hurting yourself permanently." the words came out bigger than she'd intended. respect was important in this culture, and she knew that, but she could not-- not for the life of her-- understand why the commander would put herself at such a risk. assuming thuringwethil had not snapped and chased her off right there, she sniffed at her anxiously. "slow down, short breathes, don't speak," she says in a softer, studying the way she's breathing. it looks like she agitated her ribs, which were broken. she eyed eske expectantly, feeling that she deserved an explanation.