Lion Head Mesa Scraping for pearls on the roadside

@Serein, hopefully:)

margarida moved through the dim morning with purpose, her paws whispering over the stone paths of the mesa. serein’s scent—light, nervous, frayed at the edges—threaded faintly through the cool air. the little coywolf was due soon. kemal had asked this of her. and magui, ever dutiful when it suited her, would not fail in it.

across her back she carried a small pelt—soft, colorful, chosen intentionally for its gentleness rather than its worth. a comfort-gift, nothing more. and tucked between her teeth was a bundle of herbs… the common kind. safe enough to offer without dipping into her precious stores.

she spotted the den ahead, a pale shape curled at its mouth.

margarida paused, smoothing her posture, softening her expression; warmth was a currency, too, and she knew how to spend it.

serein? she called gently, stepping closer. it’s magui. i brought something for you.

the pelt slid from her back as she approached, its colors pooling at the young woman’s paws like a small, hopeful offering.

So sorry this slipped by me!

Serein felt... bloated, more than anything else; weighted and tired from carrying her children wherever she went. She knew it would be many days yet before they left her body, but she couldn't help her impatience for it. These past weeks had taught her how little she'd truly appreciated the ability to move unencumbered.

So when Margarida arrived, all soft femininity and slender youth, she felt first a twinge of bitter envy — and then promptly guilt. The woman had brought gifts. Serein pulled herself to her feet, ears flicking in acknowledgement. It's... pretty. Thank you, she murmured, uncertain. No one had ever gifted her such a thing before.

margarida’s expression softened immediately, any sharpness easing from her posture. she set the herbs down carefully, giving serein space.

i’m glad you like it, she said quietly. i thought something gentle might be nice.

her gaze lingered with concern, not judgment.

how are you feeling?

a pause, sincere.

is there anything i can do to help you? even small things—water, rest, company.

she tilted her head, voice warm and steady.

you don’t have to manage this alone.

I feel fat, Serein confessed with a soft, humorless laugh. She pulled the pelt closer, then turned her head to drape it over her own shoulders. It helped a bit with the cold, and she was grateful for that. I guess company would be nice.

But I'm afraid I'm not a very adept conversationalist, she added, settling back on her haunches. I'm better with plants. Serein cast a quick glance over the herbs Margarida had brought. All good herbs, but nothing like the plants Serein had worked with before. That was good too, in a way.

margarida snorted before she could stop herself—short, surprised, entirely unladylike. her eyes widened at once.

perdão— excuse me, she said quickly, a hand lifting in apology. that was rude.

but the corners of her mouth were already softening into a smile, the tension broken cleanly.

you do not look fat, she added gently, then amended with care, you look… full of life. though i imagine it does not feel that way.

she eased down across from serein, close enough for warmth, far enough to be respectful. her gaze brightened a little at the mention of plants.

oh? what do you like about them? she asked, genuine interest threading her voice. working with them, i mean.

then she nudged the small bundle of herbs forward with her paw, unwrapping them just enough to show their shapes and scents.

these are simple, she admitted. nothing rare. chamomile, yarrow, mint. safe things. a small, careful smile. for calming the body… and the mind.

her eyes lifted back to serein, warm and open. despite her conversation with defne. 

maybe you can tell me what you would have chosen instead.