GLORY BE THY NAME

Róta had been keeping to the lowlands. Sure it was terribly hot, but it kept her and her bad behaviour away from the expecting mother and any children she might be carrying. They couldn't be far off being born... No, they should have come already. The days were more defined when you weren't piss blind drunk picking fights with mountain goats.

When her brother's call came, her stomach dropped, but she made her way up the mountain to where he was gathering the pack together to discuss a raid. She had been passed out for the last meeting, so made an extra effort to get to this one, settling herself close to her brother, but not directly at his side. She could smell enough change to keep her distance for her own sake.