Northstar Vale Yioí

Meadow was struck with the coolness that Tamar gave now—a straightened back, despite a wince that indicated discomfort—oh, how pregnant she had become, and would be due soon. Surely, it did not assist her in this assessment now—but Meadow found herself straightening under the cold exterior of the Morphe.

“He did come here for me.” It was spoken as if this was a terrible thing—and Meadow wanted to reiterate this now, feeling a flick of fire surge in her chest. How was this happening in their peaceful vale, now, of all times… and with those she loved the most?

“He came here for me and it would be nice if he was given the courtesy of being given a chance to integrate himself here. How do you feel he’s changed?” She spoke of something Meadow did not know—and before the female could answer—her eyes swept to the swollen abdomen of the Morphe, and she found her own spine stiffening. “We should get you inside for rest,” she ushered then, as well, knowing they could move this discussion to an area of better comfort for the expectant she-wolf.