Bearclaw Valley peccato meo munda me

in her fourth pregnancy, the beardog was without wonder, gratitude or curiosity. there was only growing irritation as she counted days, kept a calendar, tracked moon phases in search of a single, desirable answer - soon. later than a rabbit's, but sooner than a cat's. 

she needed only that.

once the pains were done with, living or not, the pushed out foetuses would find their uses. only the firstborn was of any importance. the rest will suckle on her as she concocted plans to leave; them, and this godless place.

she seldom left her hovel, her dark hole dug beyond mosskeep. today her body was in the universe's mercy, as she woke unburdened by draining fatigue.

too long had she been underground. what of ursus?

bernadette waddled and limped dragged by the weight of her fur-obstructed belly. had she luck, the clan had dispersed as she pondered and relaxed. what a gift that'd be!

out the woods, and she spotted a wolf.

the beardog gave a single bark.

"you." the rumble of her voice carried well within the valley. "ursus. does it endure?"

for @Cyril