Phoenix Maplewood LVII

New Snow watched her man wedge himself into the opening, leaves wreathing him. His bark she could hear from outside, and she answered with one of her own. But she had no draw to begin the process of nesting, nor making her own scent heavy in this spot—instinct still took hold, and she knew the whelping den must be hidden from other eyes of those that would prey on their young. 

He seemed ready now, though. New Snow smiled at this, glad after these years he still looked forward to this task they two shared. She trotted over to him to nip at his heel, and let out a sound that she would hunt while he worked before she set off into the Bloodwood.