Redtail Rise nesting

Sunday Morning was not yet near this point, not yet. She still enjoyed the company of others, and had yet to isolate herself entirely. This could be the place. It felt such. A catch of red in the corner of her eye caused Sunday Morning to swing her head in that same direction.

Red Woman had come to see her!

At once, Sunday Morning lowered herself to meet her halfway, whimpering an I am happy to see you greeting at her great pleasure from this surprise. Her tail beat lowly between her hocks as she moved to deliver supplicating laps of her tongue against her chin, if permitted. Sunday Morning bore a great respect for Red Woman, for welcoming her into their family and their fold.

For granting her the opportunity to grow it. She knew it was an honor her own mother might not have bestowed upon her, but last year in the Great North had been hard. Sunday would have understood.

Red Woman spoke, and Sunday withdrew to observe and listen. Though she did not understand the words, Sunday suspected that her leader had come to see how things were. Her tail waved all the quicker for the thought, an unintentional answer to the first question: she was happy. It took an effort not to wriggle in place with the weight of her joy, but her eyes were rich with the feeling.

The question is not understood, but Sunday Morning can sense the caring in the words. She rumbles a sound of content.

Sunday sees Red Woman inspect the site she had selected. Sunday Morning loosed a questioning note, as this was a woman well versed in whelping. Her head canted, one more questioning note to follow as her gaze traced the same path as her leaders, that seemed to ask, what do you think? or, is it safe, is it good?