Redtail Rise nesting

Sunday Morning saw no sign of ill feeling toward the place she had picked. It brought relief to her features, shoulders releasing tension stored there part from the work of digging for days on end, and part from nerves. Red Woman looks back to her, and there are other words. The serious gaze causes Sunday Morning to look away, lest Red Woman think she challenged her in any way, and Sunday Morning chuffed quietly.

Her own noise was given in thanks to the woman. And it was for many things. Sunday Morning shifted closer while remaining low, turning back to Red Woman to sniff at her furs. Sunday Morning noted some sort of something, likely from a briar, caught within her furs. It was slightly thorny, and could prove to be a nuisance later. Sunday Morning loosed a questioning note, tail thumping against the earth. She hoped to groom Red Woman; it had been one of her favored pastimes to do with her mother and sisters, and on occasion her brothers. While Sunday was far from the picture of perfection, when her furs had been in place it was largely thanks to her family. Now, it was mostly Mountain Boulder who groomed her. Family still, as she saw him, her man.

And Red Woman, too. This pack of hers that had accepted her as one of their own. Family. Sunday Mornings soft eyes remained bright with her gratitude.