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

Niamh had hoped to be coddled a bit by Finley- she'd hoped that Finley would turn then, soften and reassure her, maybe give her a hug or something along those lines. Clearly, being pregnant was making her a bit delusional as well, as Finley wasn't the sort of wolf to baby another adult. While she'd wanted to be petted and told that everything was going to be OK, Finley's casual means of explaining that logistically, nothing really should go wrong was enough to cheer her up a bit. Finley was a stubborn sort of wolf, and had managed to deliver her previous litter, it seemed, using sheer will. And here was Niamh, in a well-fed pack with a mate who was perfectly capable of taking care of her and feeding her- and who was at least a decade or two younger than Finley and in perfect health. She tried to tell herself that if a near-starving, elderly lady could push out a couple kids, she could too. 

But she didn't say that. Instead, she stayed where she was, and flattened her ears. She averted her gaze and stared, hard, off into the distance for a moment to try and keep the tears at bay. She breathed in a low, long breath and exhaled it quietly after a moment, before she was able to control her gushing emotions enough and return her gaze- much softer and appreciative now- back to Finley. 

"You're the strongest wolf I've ever met, y'know that?" She asked, and shrugged one shoulder. "I don't think I'm made anything like you. I try to be all tough and shit, picking fights with cougars and bears and stuff...But at the end of the day, here I am whimpering about being scared I'll die giving birth." She said quietly.