Heron Lake Plateau Hindenburg

Forward dated to the very end of March

Camilla had stopped putting on weight but that didn't mean her appetite had withered; she struggled to sleep on most nights, spent early morning hours pacing, and lately had become a demanding tyrant of a woman - she wanted affection from Phox to make up for how awful she felt, and when she couldn't get that Camilla would demand food to compensate. Time had slowed down for her. She was a blimp of frustration and worry; her only consistent comfort was in food, and that's only if she could keep it all down. Having tediously wobbled her way to the nearest cache (and then coerced some poor S.O.B  to unearth it for her) she had just started to chow down -- but within moments the cache was empty, and she was alone with a pile of bones and her insatiable appetites.

Just gonna throw a Mr. Rye bread your way!

 Rabbits, rabbits and more rabbits filled Ryes' maw. Approximately three, how he fit all three within was still a mystery to him but he did know that the current way they were being held was dangerously close to falling out. The male picked up his pace, raising his muzzle to better shift the weight of the three towards the back of his mouth in hope of saving him the trouble of picking them up again. Then tragedy struck as Rye past the border, one of the rabbits fell from his mouth and the male halted in his tracks but to his shock and relief the furry creature didn't fall. Instead its body hung from his mouth, its leg caught between the other two creatures. With muffled sigh of relief and a stronger bite on the rabbits, Rye was on his way.

Upon approching the cache Rye took note of the very pregnant wolf with her pile of bones by her, Rye slowly came to a stop, his eyes slightly widened. For Rye, the entire scene was interesting to say the least. As his eyes gathered more information, his facial features began to practially scream 'holy hell'. It was safe to say he was shocked, having never seen the affects of pregnancy first hand. He had heard stories of extreme hunger from his mother but never thought it was like this. Realizing he was rudely staring, Rye peeled his eyes off the female and continued to lay down his catches. He left it as is, curious to see if she wanted any more. "If you want them, you can have them." He said, his muzzle nudging one of the rabbits her way. "My name is Rye, Rye Black." An endearing smile formed and a nod of his head was given.

She grabbed at the bones and pulled the free of the cache. One after another - and another, and another. Some were too long and thoroughly buried to uproot, but she'd gotten a nice collection going around her, and piled them as neatly as her patience would allow. Some of them had bits of meat and tendon left on the, so she grabbed one of them and began to much on it; working at it with her molars or repositioning with her front paws, but not really making much progress. The marrow inside might have still been good but she wasn't strong enough to get at it.

Then someone noticed her cache-raid, and came slinking over. The stranger spoke but it was like Camilla wasn't present; some feral part of her just wanted to keep on eating, eating, eating, and was growing frustrated when the bones didn't split open for her. She looked up just as the other wolf introduced himself, the bone in her paws scored by her teeth but still unbroken. She released it, and it went tumbling towards him.

Help me break these, she commanded, which was a far-cry from the typical sheepish, awkward, subservient Camilla that everyone was familiar with.

Rye was sort of at a loss, his introduction and offers were thrown aside and was commanded to break open the bones. Of course he would immediately oblige but first, "O-okay but uh, I've got three freshly killed rabbits just laying at my feet." He glanced at the hares then back at her, a little in shock at the sudden happening of things. Giving her distance, Rye walked around the female and to the bones, grabbing a mouthful and settling down nearby. He chose a random femur and bit down hard, using his molars and earning a few loud cracks. He wasn't going to completely split them open but rather soften them so she could more easily access what she wanted.

He repeated the process until his pile had all been cracked and set them in a seperate pile next to the uncracked ones. Rye then grabbed the last remaining bones and did his best to open them all, no matter how tiny they were. Taking a brief break to speak, which he was hesitant to, and said, "Is everything okay?" She looked physically fine but anything else was up in the air. Rye didn't mean anything by the question, he was simply not accustomed and asked out of courtisy.

She should've noticed the rabbits - they had a strong smell, and since growing pregnant Camilla had become sensitive to such things. But when he mentioned them she instantly forgot about the bones; she turned and regarded the stranger for a moment (reminding herself it wasn't really a stranger anymore, but a man named Rye) and then looked for those rabbits he mentioned. Even before her eyes landed upon the discarded bodies she felt her belly flip-flop, the smell so pungent that it set her off. She turned, and abruptly threw up all over the exposed cache. Good thing she'd emptied it already.

At this point Rye was one big ball of, 'I don't know what the hell is going on'. Yet he was going to do his best to help, even if he didn't know what to do other than ask if she was okay. Which was useless considering she hasn't said much but one thing the entire time he has been around. Though he doesn't blame her now, she was vomiting and it was probably best she didn't talk. "Do you need me to go get help? I assume you have a mate, do you want me to find him?" Rye offered, not expecting a reply for a while so he sat down and waited until she was okay. 

When she could manage to swallow without feeling the acid burning in her back-wash, she coughed to clear her throat and leveled an odd look at the stranger. How could he be a part of the Redhawks and not know who she was? Such a thought was unlike her; likely a product of her increased hormonal state. I don't need help, she countered sharply, I'm just super pregnant and really hungry and — get those away from me! She whipped her focus back to the dead rabbits and flashed her teeth at them, as if they might come alive and creep closer just to spite her. The smell is making me sick.

Rye was quick to do as commanded not wanting to further anger the female. He was starting to feel sorry for her, being pregnant didn't look enjoyable in the slightest. He would've apologized but he kept quiet instead, opting to leave quietly and give her plenty of space. He of course didn't blame her for the way she was feeling but he thought it best to leave her to rest, nap or otherwise.