Blacktail Deer Plateau With Baited Breath I scream for joy

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there was a father's apprehension in lasher as blue willow's call filtered through the cold greyness of morning; he paced through the powdery drifts, hackles raised against the apprehension racing throughout his slim form. so frequent were his steps that presently the expectant sire's pawmarks melted a thin trail in front of the willow-hung den.

his thoughts were with his lover's struggles, and with their children, but they were also with peregrine. in his mind he had made his peace with the dark panther; he wished naught but the greatest joy for the new litter that would surely spring betwixt himself and fox, and the ruby herself occupied a less malicious place in his heart.

at last, as the hours passed, taltos could take no more, and stepped carefully to the mouth of the den, chuffing lightly. the scent of birth and of milk and tiny things hung in the air; he lowered his belly to the cool earth and lay with shoulders and head inside the den.

they lay alongside their mother, and his heart swelled with pride and love for her, and affection for her labour. and pulling away for a moment, the man sang the news of vivid small lives unto his friends, unto his pack. in the next moment he had returned, lying beside the denmouth and peering into the darkness.

murkwater eyes traced first the pale and delicate form of the female child, and then he smiled at the slumbering bodies of his sons, dark as he was. they are beautiful, blue willow, he whispered, extending his muzzle to lick her hind paw. i would like to name her eilidh, he said of the gossamer child, and then he awaited the healer's words.