Whitefish River Fairytale beginnings

The first few days following the birth of her children had passed in a haze of sleeping and caring for the pups. It had been easy to get lost in all the new responsibilities required of her now that she had four lives to care for; she had been able to ignore the ball of gnawing despair in her chest and focus on her children. But, as the days passed, the despair grew, spreading through her chest and into her veins until it tainted every thought and emotion she had. She had been fighting it every step of the way, though, waking up each day and going through with her routines to ensure that she remained healthy enough to protect and feed the pups. She quickly realized that if it weren't for them, she may have been swallowed by the despair almost immediately. Whenever packmates dropped in, she tried her best to hide how awful she felt, but she wondered how well she actually fooled them; she was never very good at lying.

She was curled around the nursing pups when she heard the Count call to her from the den entrance, and she raised her head to offer him a small smile. We're all doing fine, she answered, sniffing the air as the scent of food wafted towards her; her stomach rumbled in response. She had to eat quite a lot to keep herself fed and feed the four growing pups, so she was often hungry. You can come in, she offered next, knowing he was probably eager to meet his newest packmates.