Dawnlark Plains Lotus Bloom

It had taken a little while to rustle up some grub for Pema, and he spent a good deal of time out on the plains. Eventually, his luck turned; he stumbled upon an injured mule deer adolescent, its leg twisted and mangled by some misfortune. He was swift, merciful in the killing, and he took it by the bleeding neck and dragged it back to the den, grinning from ear to ear.

So heavy was the scent of prey in his nostrils that he didn't notice the changed smells around the area until he'd dropped the fawn and taken a deep breath, ready to call out to Pema. He sniffed--and froze. His ears shoved forward as he heard, faintly, the homely sounds of nursing pups. Could it be?

Eyes widening, he poked his head in, gaze raking over the sight before him. There was Pema, looking happy but exhausted--and at her breast, four healthy babes. . .two girls, two boys.

Just like last time.

A sob caught in his throat, a mix of joy and fear, and he let it go, finally, tears coming to his eyes. "Pema," he whispered, his voice strangled. He looked them over, all so perfect, so wonderful. A muddled mix of grays, browns, reds, and golds. Each so different, and beautiful in their own way. "Pema, they're here." He could scarcely believe it.

Without further hesitation, he retreated from the den and threw his head back, letting out a joyful howl. Four pups! he cried out, fur prickling with adrenaline. Four healthy pups for Morningside!

And they're mine, he thought quietly, fervently, as his muzzle lowered, eyes filled with wonder. They're mine.