Blacktail Deer Plateau green flash sunset

In first seeing the procession of children, she thought they might be proposing a hunt, or coming to ask for a rite of passage as they grew up before her very eyes. She had had such things planned, but it seemed that a umber of the pack's fledglings would be leaving the pack before such celebrations could occur. They would celebrate as they travelled, she knew; day after day, joyous about their liberation. 

The mention of Nazair's name brought a tear to her eye. She reached for her children if they could come in for a hug. One extra-firm for Baldr who had earned it for pouncing her in her sleep two nights ago. Her daughter would receive whispers of encouragement, soft words of encouragement. Granite, if he came close, would be called 'son' and would be told how very much he was loved. 

To the children belonging to Reyson and Meadow, she offered open arms as well (she was a hugger, after all) and as gracefully as she could, she announced them as the official travelers of Raventhorpe, and wished them well on their way. 

As was her custom, she would sit there and wave a paw at them, watching to smile every time one looked back over their shoulder, but she would not continue waving until long after they had disappeared from her sight. It was a tradition, a way of wishing someone well on a journey. 

Her heart ached, but it pounded with happiness as well- and in her belly, new life squirmed.