Snowforest Taiga once was a postcard

thunder clawed overhead. masquerade stiffened. sobeille sensed she’d unsettled the woman. this was par for the course for sobeille, who spent her entire life being a little too intense for comfort — but for once, she wasn’t proud of how uncomfortable the woman seemed.

she forgot about the preposterous suggestion that the woman had a peer in her mate. her attention was focused now on the abstract strain in masquerade’s face; the redness a deep and satisfying color that communicated pain more clearly than any other shade.

sobeille recognized it, for she’d seen it in her maman and tante both. you be close to poppin’, den. she noted, motioning to the woman’s belly as she widened her stance. overhead, lightning forked across the skies, followed by a loud clap. mebbe it be best you find some cover.