Ravensblood Forest We're bound to break and my hands are tied.

She'd remained hidden away in the weeks following the end of her heat cycle, actively seeking a suitable denning area deep in the heart of their bleeding forest. It was a premature hunt, but a hopeful one - with the potential of new life growing within her own womb, Durnehviir wanted nothing more than to be prepared.

When her abdomen began to swell, she would catch herself gazing over the gentle curve of her belly and remind herself, every time, that the one thing she'd never dared to dream of had become a beautiful reality. Soon, the dragoness would welcome her brood into the world, but after a month of prowling the woods in search of the perfect hollow to prepare for their arrival, Durnehviir realised she would never find what her heart yearned for among the evergreens of Ravensblood.

It still, and always would, long for the territory she'd been born to - no matter how often she told herself otherwise.

Hungry to look out over the place where Durnehviir's own dam had bore her and her brothers, she braved the neighbouring mountains to reach its highest points and turned toward the Eastern sunrise to look out at the wetlands that lay beyond. The new season had returned life to the land that always thrived, and the russet Frostfur breathed deep the crisp morning air to close her eyes with the bittersweet memory of Paarthurnax' gentle, smiling face.

The thought of returning to Swiftcurrent did not leave her after that and, finally plucking up the courage to approach her swarthy leader, she trailed through the forest in search of him. The thought pained her, for Constantine loved his forest and had worked endlessly to secure it, but she could not keep her own desires from him. She appreciated and valued his own honestly when he'd shared with her his history in Donnelaith, so now was the time to trust him with her own.