Sleepy Fox Hollow and hoping made you hurt more

Wylla tensed when Mahler reached for Isa, but managed to still herself from striking him. She knew he meant no harm. He was their father, for god's sake! That didn't make it much easier to tamp down the surge of maternal protectiveness, but this year she managed it.

She watched his examination with bated breath, turning her head now and again to nudge Anselm or Emmerich back into place if they lost their latch. Soon they would sleep, but only for minutes at a time. They would wake and feed for many short intervals at a time, and she would grow sleep-deprived as a result, but it would all be worth it. This year they would not lose any of them. This year things would go perfectly.

Mahler concluded his assessment and Wylla frowned. There has to be, look at her! She couldn't remember eating anything strange, and surely the trip up Sawtooth's sheer slope was as arduous as this, and done much later in her pregnancy! She was frantic for an explanation, but there seemed to be none. Isa was green. That had to be something!

Mahler was skilled, though, and Wylla knew despite her raw nerves that if he said Isa was healthy, she was. That would not stop Wylla doting on the girl to the point of coddling in the following days to ensure no sickness crept into her from the stain upon her fur.