Only half way up

Modesty allows her eyes to drift almost closed, simply soaking up the bone warming rays of the sun. She doesn't stay alone for long, and she contemplates the interloper openly. She hadn't met the tiny brown thing before, the mottled pattern far from unfamiliar to her eyes, just the one wearing it. But she knew the scent well enough from her husband's pelt, she wasn't quite sure what to make of all that.

While she was the Wife in title, they hadn't actually married, and two litters later, she had begun to doubt that they would. Not that it mattered overly to her anymore. She had done her duty to her mother's Gods and married or not, her divinity was assured. She was far from the rambunctious yearling she had been, and Gil had ambitions, clearly. She had begun to wonder where exactly she was supposed to fit into all his plans.

She allowed her front legs to stretch out, curling her toes and trying (poorly) to conceal a barking cough that pushed its way from her lungs. “Don't spend too long in there, you'll catch your death.” She warned the smaller canine with a grin that only pulled at the right corner of her lips. Ha. She was even starting to sound old.

“Speech.”