Stavanger Bay lxxi. a creature in my bloodstream chews me up

@Kjalarr

Though spring had come and greenery was beginning to sprout, the air was still kissed by a breath of winter -- bitter and stinging as it bit against the sensitive flesh of her ears and nose. The cloudberry had pulled a warm wolverine skin about her shoulders, grateful for the added warmth as she left the Spine. 

Much as new life dotted the bare branches of the trees in the mountains and blossomed in the reeds of the steppes, new spirits nested in her womb. The sickness had passed, for which the bird-watcher was eternally grateful. In its wake she had grown rather hungry -- as if to make up for the spells of nausea that had struck -- and the rounding of her sides could not be attributed to the increase in food intake. The mother had yet to feel the dancing of the babes in her belly but she looked forward it to with great anticipation. 

Knowing now that her dalliance with the sea-wolf had been successful, Lótë dared to seek out the Bay. The world did not seem so safe as it once had -- not after the bear had marked her, or the stranger in the Forest had attacked. The doe's emeralds shifted warily, ears flickering and muzzle lifting to scent the air almost constantly -- not willing to be caught off guard and accosted. Such was bad enough on a regular basis, but the thought of carrying children made her especially cautious. 

The dove kept a fair pace, stopping only when she neared the low cliffs that ringed the Bay. It was a sense of propriety that kept her from trying to pick her way across them, rather than her newfound condition. Even if she did need to speak to Kjalarr, it seemed rather rude to simply wander into his claim -- even if it was not yet official. Thus, Aiwë lingered just outside the newly marked borders, curling her haunches beneath herself as she sent up a howl for the pale guardian.