Duskfire Glacier a dog can smell a lie you know

It wasn't Rye's deperature that woke her -- nor Siku's -- but when her subconscious recognized that she was alone in their bed furs, her cracked gaze winked open blearily. She peered around, eyes opening with alarm and head rising alertly when she realized her (intended) mate and child were in fact gone. Hastily, she made her way to her feet -- as quickly as she could while fighting the pain that was beginning to blossom in her pelvis and the black spots that wanted to claim her vision from bolting upright. When she could walk without doubling over and the dizziness wasn't threatening to topple her over like a sapling caught in a storm, the medicine woman scurried out into the corridor, aquamarines sweeping the shadows until they landed on Rye and their son a few feet away.

With a sigh of relief, Imaq padded closer on slower steps. "Siku," she crooned chidingly as she came up next to his father, bending to rasp her splotched tongue over his forehead with a grin of adoration. "What we do with you, ullugiak?" she asked teasingly as she pulled back.