Dragoncrest Cliffs Waving through a window

There was no doubt about it now: Wildfire was hell'a pregnant. As her due date drew nearer—it couldn't be more than a week out, two tops—she ballooned visibly every day. And just like last time, she grew lethargic, unwilling to drag her swollen body about the pack lands. She did muster the energy to relocate to the log she'd used to whelp last year's litter, since the hollow redwood would be too tight a fit for a growing family. But once she got there, the Feisripa sprawled and proceeded to nap like it was her job.

A soft rain fell on this chilly April morning as she snored inside the log, her body heat having turned the space quite cozy. She shifted and whimpered in her sleep, feeling restless even at rest. Wildfire's lips flapped like a horse's as her legs began to twitch, a crude mimicry of running. The instant she fell still again, a thunderclap directly overhead caused her to startle awake with a gasp and an unpleasant spurt of wet heat as she peed herself.