Neverwinter Forest hurting. longing. dancing to disco music.

Lótë was surprised to hear Makan, lifting her head from where she cleaned @Fjall with gentle rasps. Her heart fluttered nervously as she crooned a soft call in return -- beckoning the dark he-wolf in since she could not go out. The tiny babe could not be left alone and even if he could've, the cloudberry would not have left her vulnerable son's side at such an age. 

Lótë realized she had missed the blackbird's presence, though she had no one else to blame but herself for the distance that had grown between them. The paintwolf knew it was likely her pregnancy that had driven a wedge in their relationship -- when their strange friendship just seemed to be morphing into something that inspired mutual companionship. Of what nature, Lótë couldn't say, only that she seemed to have ruined it. 

She didn't know for sure if it was her actions or just the idea of her motherhood that had spooked him, but the fallow dove lowered her ears and hunkered down small as she curled against Fjall. The muted edge of a pleading whine trapped in her throat, fighting to whisper its way out beneath her breath. 

She wanted nothing so bad as to see her friend again, for things to be okay.