Lion Head Mesa blade

small things had happened.

blue eyes now peered at her in the morning instead of closed, lifeless faces. she wondered how much they could see but quickly figured it must not be much. they still seemed like bumbling little messes.

she found she loved them. some times more (or less) than other times, but it was always there like a soft lapping wave. truthfully she imagined she might have found no love for them if they had nursed at another. an ugly thought.

@Toula, she hummed. her daughter was treasured, deeply and greatly. you're growing too fast, you know. such a thing was not true. they were healthy, on track. well tended to little babes.

perhaps treva had simply found herself with hesitation of her own coming days.