Seaside Moors and then my eyes go dark,

The fine, misting rain was rejuvenating to Nieve, who trotted swiftly back to the moors from the adjoining bay with a fat perch clutched firmly in her jaws, her golden fur mussed and caked with sand and salt alike. Yet despite the catch and despite being more at ease here than she'd ever been on the plateau, there were worried lines etched into her youthful features, a bone-tired cast to her blue eyes.

There were going to be way more pups than they could reasonably handle this year. She wasn't a strong hunter and already wasn't looking forward to the long, gruelling hours she would have to put into hunting for the hungry mothers. How in the world were they supposed to feed everyone with half their wolves out of commission? And Reyes had gone off again at the worst possible time. But considering who the pregnant she-wolves were, it was impossible for Nieve to convey this frustration in any way, so she kept it in and let it fester.

She was coming up on Erzulie now, who looked dour in her own right. Dutifully, Nieve swept toward her mother and placed the fat ocean fish down. Erzulie was eating for multiple, after all, and needed it more than she did, no matter her private thoughts.