Moonspear on the front line, get ready for war

sialuk looked different than the last time sobeille saw her. the pale wisps of her fur stank of newborn and mother's milk, and parts of her sagged in ways sobeille recognized in her maman. there was no shame in this - she simply observed it in the clinical manner of a girl used to the female body.

sobeille's tail wagged to be greeted so warmly. for a distant child, it instilled in her a strange sensation; like she might belong here, and was not a stranger like back at home. it be for you. sobeille instructed, pushing the plastron towards sialuk. it was not large -- hardly a foot's diameter -- but its edges were hooked and turned inward. 'ave you birthed, den?