Phoenix Maplewood li pale [m]

“My mothers…” Totoro’s head tilted ever so slightly at the plural, though they of course did not interrupt Marie. Her words reminded them of their own mother, who had long studied anatomy only to birth an anomaly. The blue-eyed wolf shifted slightly as they recollected Sugar’s tales of performing autopsies, though such a macabre mention did not belong in this conversation.

I do not know whether I have a preference, they mused in turn, between impregnating or falling pregnant myself. I suppose the former would be easier. Childbirth is extraordinary, though I am not sure I want to experience it. I do want children someday, I think, if it is possible one way or another. I suppose you do as well, given your dalliances?

Their eyes caught and Totoro smiled warmly. There was a question in Marie’s eyes that soon came to her lips. “The Coven?” That made them once more ponder the mention of Marie’s mothers.

Aye, I was raised by my mother and a sisterhood of witches! they pronounced enthusiastically. I do not know my father, nor did I meet many men before I dispersed as a yearling. Though I have mostly kept to myself this past year, I have met a few since. I have trysted with them, with a few women too. All of them were some manner of mystified by what they found, Totoro shared with a hearty chuckle.

There was a dark side to that story too, though like their mother’s penchant for dissecting corpses—wolves as well as other animals—it didn’t bear repeating. Nonetheless, they momentarily reflected on the time when a man had mounted them only to discover more parts than he had bargained for. He had shoved Totoro away in disgust. He hadn’t harmed them physically, though the heavy weight of that memory lingered.

Tell me about your mothers, they asked in the next breath.