Redhawk Caldera Who needs vanilla when you have me.

His casual remark earned a cock of Towhee’s head, along with a squint. She knew he meant it jokingly, though didn’t he know the pack already had a Matriarch? She said nothing, letting him talk about feeding her foliage and then stare almost longingly at the slight swell in her belly.

Of course they’ll be strong, she said, placing all self-deprecation aside for a moment. I may be leaking at the moment, but I know exactly what I’m doing. And I don’t doubt you’ll do your part, either, Towhee said, an almost solemn light behind her eyes as they fixed on Hotah’s face.

Hotah withdrew then, keen to do as he was asked—a trait she rather liked—and dropping a few quips on his way out. Towhee huffed a laugh, waiting until he was gone before she rolled her eyes. She appreciated his help and wouldn’t begrudge him his role, though there was something about the way he’d looked at her that didn’t sit quite right.

Brushing it aside, Towhee shifted her weight and decided that sitting here and twiddling her nonexistent thumbs wouldn’t work. She might as well get some sleep while Hotah hunted, especially with how heavy she felt at present. She exhaled and relaxed her muscles, letting her chin drift down to the crook of one outstretched foreleg.

She meant to think about names a bit, though she quickly drifted off as the autumn sun warmed her back and the mix of dead leaves and withering petals settled around her.