Count on It [puppy birthing]
02-05-2013, 09:27 AM
Winter was a bitter season. Most places were buried under layers and layers of snow. That was what Soleil liked about the West. It never failed to flourish in this season of cold. To the West it meant that hot temperatures were brought down. Warm days fading into cold nights. In most cases there was no snow to be had. Soleil walked with purpose. A vagabond once more. She had been happy as a member of Valhalla. She had found love. Yet fate would not hear of it and a volcano rocked her world. Everyone had fled, moving south into unknown territory. It was still Alacritia but surely this region of the continent had another name from where they were previously. Soleil was aware that this might well end up as home to them all, but it would take time for her to grow truly acquainted to the land. There was always a chance that she might never like this new land. For now her heart wept with the thought of their homeland now hidden under a crust of cooling magma. The white she-wolf paused as she saw what lie ahead. A lake. A gentle breeze stirred its surface and maybe a hundred yards off the shore grew grapes. It was only a small patch, brought here likely by bird or squirrel. They were soaking up the sun, choking the sapling trees on which they had colonized. Winter, season of the grape. Her blue eyes grew clouded and the female doubled over in pain. She realized she had finally found her purpose in seeking out the west when likely most of those she knew had stopped in the north. It was time. The miss was heavy with child and it seemed now they were choosing to be born. In a panic she realized that she had lost track of Collision for a good while now. Alone in a strange new place with no pack or mate to help her and ease her mind. She wondered if Collision would find her, if he would protect her, and then she realized that was foolish thing to ask herself because Collision would always take care of her. The wolf settled under a tree, the lake before her, grapes to the left and open pastures to the right. Panting heavily she cried out as a contraction ripped through her, "Collision!" |
| Table by Amanda, Image by Lutara |