Blackfeather Woods Someday your bird is going to fly.

If someone would have asked her about having children with Mou, she would have been happy at the prospect. Why wouldn't she? It wasn't an illicit union like that of her parents, and she loved Mou more than almost anyone in the world. There was no other wolf she'd rather raise kids with.

At the same time, her knowledge of such things was proficient. Her love for her friend was confusing, deeply perplexing and too complex to put in a box. No one had ever taught her about romance or sex—babies just seemed to happen, and she didn't know how. Mou would have to ask for what he wanted, and even then, Maegi had no earthly idea how to begin to provide.

Her muzzle snapped at the thicket, pushing it clear from the path. She recognized it as one leading to a cache of hers, which made it all the more important to clean up. By the time they'd get to the next small clearing, she'd be covered in burrs and leaves and bleeding slightly from several scrapes, but ultimately pleased with her work.