Deepwood Weald Ahead by a Century

aditya paced the area around the birthing den, waiting for news; waiting for orders.

easy's call sent his heart lodged hard into his throat—she was here?! and did her babies fare well—?

but she could care for herself. this was, he understood, symbelmyne's first litter, and she was the priority. 

adi's breath came short, and he pulled himself into scenting distance—if they wanted him, they could pull him in, easily. but if not, he could disperse.

still, he wanted to know—grandchildren. how many?!

just one post from me!