Sun Mote Copse They say that wealth is revealed in the teeth

Fin had a hard time not laughing at the look on Niamh's face. Had her mother never told her about child birth? Had no one? How young was she, anyway, good lord... Any guilt she ought to have felt over bursting the poor girl's bubble over the magic that was bringing new life into the world didn't find a way to touch her. Apparently someone had needed to do it, so she only felt bad that she hadn't known to rip the band aide off for her sooner. And even then, only slightly. And only for a second before it was forgotten.

"But! If you want some company while you tear trees apart, I've got nothin' going on," Fin offered, stepping forward and peering at Niamh's current target, "Even if it's a futile effort, nesting does help with the nerves. Back when I was pregnant with Lucy and the twins, I spent hours and hours trying to track down anything green that I could use in the den, which was one hell of a chore at that time, I tell ya. A swarm of locusts had come through and eaten everything--it was a mess, and there wasn't green for miles. But still, hunting for it kept my mind off of things. Otherwise I'd have probably died of the massive anxiety I had over giving brith when I was so weak from the famine."

Ahh, good times. She had been stepping around the trees as she spoke, peering curiously at the bark. She couldn't remember if Niamh had used her claws or her teeth - neither of which seemed ideal. But, oh well. Fin began to nibbled at the side of the tree, trying to find some grip so she could pull a shard off.