The spring sun kept warming the earth as each day passed, breathing life into the once cold, deadened flora. As the birthing season progressed, Myrria had remained close to the forest and other popular areas for lone mothers to give birth. It was an easy way to ensure a meal and she made her rounds every morning in search for newborn pups. What had been a survival tactic in the north had now become a habit and was quickly evolving into an addiction. Her meals became less of the herbivorous type and more of the lupus type as time wore on. It was becoming difficult for her to go back to the old way of hunting, as if her mind wouldn’t make the switch on its own. She was not too terribly worried about it because she knew how to weasel her way around any parents who tried to get in the way.

Her svelte, charcoal body snaked through the tangle of trees and underbrush as she headed toward the crags. Clumps of her winter coat shed off onto the branches as they grasped greedily at her. Her head craned back to the right as one particularly needy tree limb became hung in one of the tangles of her loosened fur, pulling at the skin until she snarled and snapped at the clump to be released. A snort of indignation was given as she turned back to her trek toward the rocky outcropping, the monolith now coming into view.

She had been directed by her mother as to where the birthing den would be, but there was a slight hesitation as she lingered on the edge of the trees. She did not care much for her half-sibling or this new mate that Malleah calls her own. It is only right for her to consider Carnifex the one true partner for her mother - but there is also a part of her that does not care. Her father had left them, after all, and that was unforgivable. The two sides continue to fight in her head as she rocks lightly on her paws until the rustling wind brings her back to reality.

The flowers sway in the sudden breeze as her silvery paws pick up to jog in the direction of the den, her nose now beginning to twitch at the familiar smell of her mother around the area. She passes a few large crevices before finding the den site tucked between two protective boulders, nearly blocking it from sight. As she approaches, she realizes that the birthing is finished and the air is heavy with the scent of blood and fluid. It is an intimate moment as the larger, darkened male cleans off the child and places it at Malleah’s side. He looks almost like her father, even, aside from his paws and the color of his eyes.

Myrria boldly moves past the older male, her deep pink eyes intent on the collapsed figure of her mom. Her ashen muzzle nuzzles her gently, words flowing as softly as a gentle breeze. ”I’m here..”