Redtail Rise XXII

Sunday Morning was always glad to see him. Time had not changed that, except make such a gladness more prominent. It filled her to the brim. She could scarcely control the happy whine that came from her, nor the sway of her tail (this reckless appendage her cubs were never harmed by... it enthralled, rather, and they were given into bouts of trying to capture it).

The days passed. When Sunday emerged, she could feel the change in the air. The seasons change was soon due. What the air might not have told in some odd, unseasonably warm days her man (and her own self) would. He appeared more impressive, though he did become grander to her by the day with each thing he provided to she and their family.

She missed the hunt. But with each passing sunrise and sunset, the time to join it again neared. Sunday Morning reached for the meat to tear away chunks of it and begin to eat. Sunday still acted as their main source of nourishment, and so did not shy away from eating all she ought to. But she looked up at Mountain Boulder and tilted her head, seeming to be look and see that he had gotten his own fill. She stood to lick away blood and gristle from his cheek when she determined that he had.