Heron Lake Plateau onto every life a little rain must fall

All welcome!

They had moved to the den, finally, but Raven couldn't stand to be in the unbearably dark, confined shelter for long. She found herself again wondering how Niamh lived in a den year-round. She knew that once the pups were born, she would appreciate the protection it offered, but for now, she spent her time in the grassy clearing around the outside of the den's opening, going inside only to spruce up the space and finish getting it ready for the puppies' arrival. Quixote had done a wonderful job digging it out for her; there was ample space inside for both of them, and the location he'd chosen was perfect. It was private, hidden by trees and undergrowth, but not so far from the more busily-trafficked areas of their territory that she couldn't respond if she was needed. Everything she had asked for in a den, her mate had delivered.

Her wounds ached, but they were healing as well as could be expected. Thick, itchy scabs adorned her face, neck, and forelegs, and she hoped (somewhat vainly) that there would be no unsightly scars left behind when they came off. Day by day, under Quixote's diligent care and protection, she felt a little better, and now that she was back on her feet again, she found it difficult to stay still for any length of time. Her belly was enormous, distended past the point of being comfortable in any position, and the cramping and discomfort drove her to walk. Constantly. Even now, she paced restlessly around her little densite, a storm of thoughts on her mind. Orca's death haunted her the most. She had been a daughter of sorts to Raven, and the fact that there was only one kid left from that entire litter ate at Raven on the inside. Had she failed as a parent to them? Towhee had turned out fine, but the rest of them... What did that mean for the pups to come? If any of them survive, she thought with a lingering sense of dread.