There was no questioning now whether or not she and her mate had succeeded in their endeavor. A look alone was telling. There was a not-so-subtle roundness to her, and a softening of several other features. Her stomach seemed to hang heavier, and she felt a little slower these days. Her spirits remained high, but there came a day where something took precedence.
Sunday Morning investigated many nooks and crannies of the Rise. She found one place that felt suitable, as a place to rest and bring forth the new young she carried, but as she begun to dig Sunday abandoned the task when deciding that it was, for one reason or another, not the right spot. It had taken her time to find this right spot. Where the mountains stood tallest, at the gentle foothill of one within the center, where the trickling of the Rises stream first began.
The earth here was not so compact that she could not dig a den for herself and her whelps. She kept it a safe distance to (and from) the stream, by her measure. As a first time mother, it was not at all expert... but her instinct to preserve and keep safe the life within stood paramount inside of her, and she trusted in that much. Sunday Morning stood outside of this whelping den now, bright yellow gaze sharply assessing for any vulnerable points around her.
Within the more sheltered and forested portion adjacent to the mountains and the rest, there was no threat that Sunday Morning would not be unaware of miles and miles before they came. Sunday Morning licked her chops, thinking of another potential thing. But no, here and now there was not nearly enough snow to create the threat of an avalanche. A landslide seemed more likely...
A quiet groan of uncertainty filled the air. Or perhaps it was her stomach rumbling in demand that it was time to eat. Sunday Morning felt overwhelmed at the task ahead, suddenly, but as she reclined to her haunches and looked to her distended belly she could not help but smile down at it and feel at ease.
It would be worth it, this work and more, for who was to come.
Sunday Morning investigated many nooks and crannies of the Rise. She found one place that felt suitable, as a place to rest and bring forth the new young she carried, but as she begun to dig Sunday abandoned the task when deciding that it was, for one reason or another, not the right spot. It had taken her time to find this right spot. Where the mountains stood tallest, at the gentle foothill of one within the center, where the trickling of the Rises stream first began.
The earth here was not so compact that she could not dig a den for herself and her whelps. She kept it a safe distance to (and from) the stream, by her measure. As a first time mother, it was not at all expert... but her instinct to preserve and keep safe the life within stood paramount inside of her, and she trusted in that much. Sunday Morning stood outside of this whelping den now, bright yellow gaze sharply assessing for any vulnerable points around her.
Within the more sheltered and forested portion adjacent to the mountains and the rest, there was no threat that Sunday Morning would not be unaware of miles and miles before they came. Sunday Morning licked her chops, thinking of another potential thing. But no, here and now there was not nearly enough snow to create the threat of an avalanche. A landslide seemed more likely...
A quiet groan of uncertainty filled the air. Or perhaps it was her stomach rumbling in demand that it was time to eat. Sunday Morning felt overwhelmed at the task ahead, suddenly, but as she reclined to her haunches and looked to her distended belly she could not help but smile down at it and feel at ease.
It would be worth it, this work and more, for who was to come.
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Messages In This Thread
nesting - by New Snow - August 15, 2022, 02:48 PM
RE: nesting - by Avicus - August 19, 2022, 03:59 PM
RE: nesting - by New Snow - August 19, 2022, 04:13 PM
RE: nesting - by Avicus - August 23, 2022, 04:19 PM
RE: nesting - by New Snow - August 24, 2022, 01:12 PM
RE: nesting - by Avicus - September 20, 2022, 03:27 PM