Moonspear we are all in this together,

He caught sight of her as she emerged from a thick copse of evergreens.

Not that he had been actively searching for her; her reclusiveness was not beyond her this close to whelping, and he was not immune to her suddenly, willingly able to give him to the slip. It did not come wordlessly, though few words had been involved.

And silently, he could not help but pursue her out of habit.

Though the temptation was there to see just where she had dug in finally after abandoning the prior site, he did not particularly feel like tempting fate if she were to double back and discover him. A rough location was all he needed—she would show him when she felt it necessary. When it felt safe, perhaps, once the pervasive need to be territorial and defensive eased.

So he watched her meander, intrigued by the jovial step she had adopted. How long that energy and tone would last was anyone's best guess; very much the same was his guess to how close she was to whelping. There was a certainty that she was drawing close to that point, if not because of the loitering near a den then the gradual shift in her body that was unwilling to hide any longer. His assessment of her was brief, the answer simply left at soon.

They continued wandered out separately for a spell, at least until the thickening timber began to mask her from his view. It was then that he called for her, the chuff coarse and quiet against the ambience of the mountain. Questioning at best, wondering aloud if she would have his company or not.