Bearclaw Valley (pause) it died in babylon

sleep does not come easy to towhee now. she grows bigger by what feels like the day, the life within her womb active. it is a good thing, she tells herself as she is weighed down with the added weight, the curve of her flanks. they are alive. they are strong.

a stab of guilt races through her as she feels a brief moment of irritation: that she is no longer agile. that regular, oft simple tasks are cumbersome and slow.

it was magical at first but the magic of pregnancy has waned and she is left now feeling like a burden to bearclaw and her husband rather than an asset.

she winces as one of the pups aims a kick at her bladder and she squats with a low grunt to relieve herself as urine trickles down her leg without her conscious decision to do so in the first place.

she huffs, trying to telepathically tell them to stop kicking her bladder and nudging her ribs before she kicks dirt to cover it and keeps moving, telling herself that each stretch of patrol she can muster is a small victory.