Swiftcurrent Creek the difficulty of Sundays

Rue was cautious in her approach, knowing how touchy some wolves could be when they were sick. Once Myrren greeting her, Rue closed the distance between the pair. "Hi, yourself." She laid the root upon the ground and nudged it toward Myrren, offering a small smile along with the herb. "Chewing that should help settle your stomach," she said in a hushed, sympathetic tone. "Sorry it's dirty, um.. I just dug it up..." Rue's gaze fell to the root at her paws. The soil was partially frozen and had been difficult to shake away from the root's weblike tendrils. 

"Myrren," Rue swallowed, hesitant to broach the subject. "Are you... Ah, do you think you may be..?" Rue let the question hang without speaking the "p" word aloud. Rue had scented Myrren's heat a couple weeks back, and now with this sickness... it just seemed like too much of a coincidence. The former beta's brow knit with concern.