Bearclaw Valley (pause) it died in babylon

if not for the rotundness of her body as she adjusts to carrying life within her womb, towhee feels more like her old self. something closer to draconian than lupine. irritation and hostility has nestled back into her skin: partly inspired by her own thoughts and fiercely protective maternal instincts.

she senses tvar's presence, smells him on the air — which was the only reason she wasn't startled by his approach from behind her. she leans briefly into the press of his forehead against her cheek, steps slowing to a stop so she could communicate with her husband.

-be honest with me, am i a burden? to bearclaw ... to you?- she signs in ptero.

towhee hates that these thoughts have made their home in her mind; spreading like an unwelcome plague. but it comes from a place of extreme vulnerability, that while she could hate it with every fibre of her being still existed nonetheless. it was only with tvar she would ask this question, trusting him with her raw vulnerability.

she frowns and lets out a low huff as her thoughts careen in another direction. -when my mother was pregnant with bushtit she wasn't round like me and hadn't seemed to have slowed down. she didn't even know she was pregnant until she gave birth to him!-