Life had, for the most part, returned to normal. As winter began to fade to spring with no further challenges from the cretins on Salem, Kohelet began to breathe a little easier. Doubly so when Blue and her daughter reappeared. They hadn't yet had a chance to reconnect deeply, but Kohelet looked forward to having that chance again. She missed the spicy little mare, despite their past problems, and knew that the rest of her family had as well.

As usual, Kohelet's mind was never far from her family. This child would be her third, and yet in the weeks leading up to their arrival, she was no less worried than she had been for her first two. There were just so many things that could go wrong, so many things beyond her sphere of control, that she simply could not let her guard down. Humans might speak of bridezillas who grew overbearing and strict in the period before their weddings, and Kohelet thought she could relate to them now. She tried not to be too harsh with Una and Khoshekh, but it was hard to let go of the worry that gripped, vice-like, around her heart.

As the contractions began, she sent her two eldest off to their father and slipped from the herd quietly to seek the place she had come to think of as her own. This time, there were no wolves howling through the woods, and so she took her time, letting the weak light of early morning filter through the tree limbs before she finally lowered herself to the ground. Given her familiarity with the process, and the lack of outside stressors, it was not long before she found herself cleaning off a tiny replica of Fell. Even his ears curled together just so at the tip, although whether this would remain as he aged or fade over time was yet to be seen.

Kohelet cooed over him softly, cleaning him insistently as she did so. Spring was far nicer than winter on Tinuvel, but this landscape was never particularly gentle. The sooner her second son rose onto his tiny little legs and figured out how to nurse, the better. "Up you come, handsome," she murmured against their tiny crest, running her lips along the feathery curls of his still-damp mane.

Movement from behind put her on high alert, and in an instant the soft, sweet, new-mother version of herself was gone, replaced by the cagey and on-edge version of herself that had developed over time with the repeated raids and challenges for her person. "Who is it?" She called out, ears tucked against her poll and eyes narrowed suspiciously. She had already moved to put herself between her newborn son and the possible threat, and braced herself to face whatever was coming their way.