Bearclaw Valley well shit

Laurel's distance wasn't lost on her son, who was himself a very tactile creature and had indeed noticed her aversion to sleeping close to the rest of them. In the wake of Nunataq's utter rejection, it hurt a lot more than he would ever admit; selfishly he hadn't considered that there was a reason for it outside himself. He assumed wrongly that it was because she didn't want to be near him, just like Nunataq, and let those dark thoughts consume him. For as unflappable as he appeared on the outside, Lucas was the grandson of Reek Redtail, a man who was so steeped in self-loathing he leaked it out to everyone around him.

Small wonder his legacy had a similar problem, only Lucas battled it by being infectiously happy, and keeping that dark seed smothered deep inside him. So despite the persistent sting of Nunataq's betrayal and Laurel's unexplained distance, Lucas was grinning as he closed in on Laurel's scent. At least, he was until he heard the sound of sick splattering on the ground. Ears pricking, the young piebald hastened to where his mother was and dropped his gaze to the vomit at her feet. Mama? he asked with quiet concern, are you okay? Was she so distant because she was sick?

That didn't take the edge off it. Wouldn't she have told them the reason, then?