Redtail Rise an acrostic

the whelping den's half done. she lingers upon the treeline, the forested area of the rise where the plains are cloaked in trees—but not enough to ascend into the mountains. hunting small game when she can, and checking their caches.

she's pregnant again. she knows it for sure now.

the ruddy wolf eats snow from the banks, seeking moisture. the stream isn't frozen over but still flows; still, she finds some comfort in the ice upon her tongue. she's grown so warm. . .

it's all normal. just like last time. she hears squirrels in the trees, far off, and licks her lips.

just a matter of catching them by surprise.