Wheeling Gull Isle Spinn spindel, tvinn i tankar, kverv i syn.

She arched a brow slightly when her son slumped wearily in the door. Towhee was amused, though mostly she empathized. She reached out to pat his shoulder in affectionate camaraderie. She wouldn’t be able to stay long enough for it to make a big difference, though as long as she was here, maybe he could catch up on some sleep.

She turned her attention to the den’s interior, Heda’s pale fur standing out in the dim. Her son was a lucky man. She was beautiful and she appeared happy and healthy, if a little on the thin side. That made sense, considering the four puppies currently attached to her, nursing even as they appeared to sleep. Although there was no precedent for it, the sight made Towhee worry that Heda might develop milk fever.

Poking Caracal—whose chin had sunk to his chest in a drowse—Towhee said, After I meet my daughter-in-law and grandbabies, you and me are going to go find some fish and mushrooms. Let’s say an hour from now. Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll wake you when I’m ready.

Facing inside again, Towhee sank into a sphinx pose and said, They’re beautiful, Heda, with familial affection, genuine despite only just meeting. What are their names?

Babies are (more than) welcome anytime!