Light paws grace the sand as she moves with gentle swaying strides, another rabbit hanging from her soft jaws as she makes her way to her most breath taking project. All through the winter, in hopes that she and others had conceived, the Marius has been busy. In the dunes of Glorall, the healer has made a network of dens, each for at the most two mothers in one chamber. She had over sized the dens on purpose, not being able to know how many each of the mothers had, or if she would be the only one. During the winter, the beach wolves tend to stay to themselves, cozy in their dens. Riopat and Mortz had spent their own nights wrapped up in each other and tucked in tight, her love curling his head around her stomach once it began to expand. She smiles now as she thinks of it, wondering where her mate had gotten off to.

Once more, Riopat sets down a kill in the growing pile she stores in a spare den. Three today, though she knows the time for hunting rabbits is drawing to a close. Moving out of the alley of dunes, Riopat stalks the warf. Sea weed and coral of all colors still come in from the storm, the occasional urchin found here and there. She needed something to ebb pain, but what? She would have to think on it later, her mind constantly searching through herbs and side effects, weighing the risk against benefit. The healer had to think about all involved anyway, especially nursing pups. Her dark eyes scan around, and she lifts her nose to the wind. Glorall was a wide place, and she wished to be heard. A song is given to rise in invitation, for all the mothers and healers in the land to come and see what she disappeared to do. She hoped they would use it, more eyes than one or two pairs are always good.