Fox's Glade Dream on, but don’t imagine they’ll all come true

The cub protested with a screechy wail at first, but was silenced as she picked it up by the scruff and brought it out into the light. It was heavier than a newborn wolf pup, and rather than going limp in her grasp it went stiff, sticking its little arms out, reaching with spread claws for a mother it would never see again. 

She paused to consider for a moment. The bear cub would not likely survive; but she could give it a chance. She wanted to; her body ached now, in preparation for the delivery of her own children- but this bear cub now seemed to her all the same as those who would come in the following days. 

Ourth. She answered, through a mouthful of velvety bearfluff. 

A pang of pain began in her belly, and she felt tension ripple through her abdominal muscles. She set the cub down, so she could breathe through it, pulling the cub toward her swollen belly. It searched through her thinned, beige fur to find a teat, and began to suckle. She frowned and grimaced; she was not made to nurse a bearcub. 

We'll try.