Hushed Willows But your hands ain't red yet

Pregnancy thread 1/4, sliiiightly forward dated I'll date this later

Reverie had known for weeks that she was pregnant. Weeks of falling slowly into fatigue, feeling the first tendrils of sickness creeping over her like wild-growing vines. The evidence of it turned physical now; she felt heavier well before the swell of her belly made itself known. It was a subtle thing even now.

But she felt it. She saw it. Her body was changing already; no longer only her own, but home now to the new lives she had chosen to bring into this world. She had chosen this. And it was so much different this time.

Reverie settled just beyond the entrance of her den, lounging at the cliffside and inspecting the curve of her abdomen. There was fear in her. Disgust. Bitterness. But there was love, too; the memory of Blossom's birth, that moment in which nothing else mattered but the tiny perfect daughter at her flank. Love, and a fierce surge of possessive, protective instinct. These children were hers. Only hers, for now; some secret brimming part of her that no one else could see or feel.

She curled in on herself, chin tucked next to her belly. Her children; her choice. This time it would be different.