Wapun Meadow when i was a younger man, looking for a pot of gold

She couldn't remember the last time she laughed so shamelessly, so freely, in great, unladylike guffaws; but Aure laughed until her sides ached and her ribs begged for easement. Maybe she'd been this gleeful with Blackbear, or Vonnaruil, but either memory was bleary, and either too lapsing or too early in her life to truly remember. Perhaps she would laugh this way with her son and daughter, if she ever brought them to this bursting glen. And, perhaps, when things weren't so irritable between them, when they muscled their way past their own dilemmas... perhaps she might laugh this way with the father. 

Those petering thoughts of Drago and Isi eased the cramping that'd taken to her taut-tender belly. Verx -- her beloved, even if this springly, fever-driven folly had brought her faults to light and her existence was a nuisance to Stigmata's claim. Entirely, she'd learned, she'd matured further, and there would be no good in dwelling on should've-could've. Entirely, the silver was determined to look only ahead from now on.

It wasn't long til Aurëwen eventually quieted with a few trembly pants, languished upon her quiversome side, and soon straggled to dainty paws. "I should return to ze children, all ze same." Casting a rueful, argent-eyed glimmer at the hare she'd most certainly lost an appetite for, she rasped to Indra, "Well, before... before this neindropa strangles me again." Not exactly what she wished to say, but the mother looked over a thin shoulder, regardless, towards the alpine rises.