Sequoia Coast cantaloupe

Wilwarin was positively corpulent.

It was a wonder her tiny body could inflate to such proportions! How had she managed it, when she barely ate? Her activity level had been erratic for the past few weeks; spurred by the feminine urge to be a caretaker (exacerbated by her condition), she had tried to hunt for the sick man and keep him fed before herself.

Yet her belly grew! It grew and grew, and there came a point that her hunting became more of a restlessness, until the man had roused and helped her to build something of a small haven. It was enough to fit herself, perhaps him as well — she had co-opted his sickbed for it, as he no longer required it himself.

Now the so-called dancing fox was struggling in a new way: finding comfort, when her belly had overwhelmed her. Wilwarin felt as if she might rip in two if her belly grew any further! An idle fear of that happening—and the visions that were summoned by the idea—kept her from sleep.