Ψ · Skipping town,

 Her teeth dug into the hollow of the sun-bleached femur she had discovered atop the Plains. It seemed that bones were the only thing she could stomach lately, the splinters too painful to bring back up so that she could almost force herself to keep them down. Sometimes, though, they came up, tore against her throat no matter how coated in bile they were.

 She sighed, spitting out a piece that had broken off.

 Even this, she didn't feel like eating right now.

 She rose, muscles aching slightly. Sore. Her nausea drew itself to her head and she hissed, letting the hot air within her escape as if it were coming straight from where the discomfort lay - though obviously not. Still, hot air escaping her lips into the cool morning air made her feel slightly better.

 Meissa turned her eyes eastward, towards the rising sun, merely a pale glow against the white clouds that threatened the distant hills that became gradually more and more tawny.

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“Did yew expect meh not ta follow, luv?” A vibration in the sun-dappled clouds was his voice—spreading their plush white arms to wrap around the mighty woman he called his Queen. The tone in which he greeted her, be it crisp, clear, alarming eloquent, but undoubtedly full of affection. He trotted to her side in a long-stride gate, desperately sniffing her extremities in a quiet realisation to himself.

She had not eaten. Throat sore from bile and acid. He, face flushed in fever, knew exactly why.

“Darlin', might yew try ta eat somethin' softer on yur tummy?” He nuzzled her, nose trailing down her stomach, touching tenderly around her breast; daring to inhale the scents that wafted from her nether. “'Ow 'bout some quail?” Nervously did he suggest, deciding to lap about her stomach as if it was simply a part of his loving display.

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 She gave a little chuckle. “I'd hoped you would,” she returned with a wag of her tails, sighing deeply into him as he approached her. She reached for him, taking his tail, his shoulder, whatever into her mouth to gently hold. Somehow, he could always make her feel better, even when she wanted to vomit the world.

 “Mmm, Quail,” she murmured after she released her gentle hold on him - then made a face. “I tried to eat some rabbit earlier... barely got two bites before it came back up.” She sighed, pawing absently at the slight puddle of mud before her where her spit-up had soaked into the earth. “It comes and goes - I don't understand.” she gave a little laugh, “I guess you didn't really sign up for a sickly future wife.” He still had a chance to go, find some girl who could stomach anything. Who didn't wake every morning wanting to vomit.

 At least, that's what Meissa thought.

 Little did she know, it was a bit late for that - and he was the cause of her misfortune. She sighed gently, flopping onto the earth and rolling onto her back so he could reach her belly more easily. She figured a massage wouldn't hurt, even if there was nothing in her stomach to warrant it... or so she thought.

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And there she went, talking the way she did when her mind had too much to think and nowhere to go. Yet, it was never truly like that, was it? Not now, not months prior, not until the last breath seeped from his aching lungs. He cradled his beloved close in golden arms, rubbing the scent glands that lined his cheeks possessively across her as she got into a position underneath his chest. He'd watch her every movement, witnessing the exposure that came with her plump pink belly.

Momentarily, he would smile, finding his way to her side to cuddle her once more before he continued, despite her new motion. Ears flicking backward as if he expected someone to interrupt them, and when nothing happened, he resumed the gentle laps upon her tummy, trailing once more to her nethers until he was pleasantly stroking his tongue along her delicate bits.

There was no doubting it now. Her heat had long since vanished and in its place was there a flourishing cluster of emotions that filled his chest with every lick he drew.

“Yes... quail... A tender bird, easy to digest. One I enjoy eating me'self...” Removing his muzzle from her, turning to place his head atop her uneasy stomach. He drew in a single gasp, a chuckle clearing his throat. “It was a favourite of the Queen during this time as well.”

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 She rattled on and he embraced her, delicate kisses washing her form. She felt vaguely bloated, though she supposed that was due to the nausea and weight within her. Gases, wishing to escape though caught somewhere in her digestive tract. She turned her head to nuzzle against him, eyes shut, sighing softly into his fur before it was too far gone to reach. There was a tickle as he groomed and her rear left leg kicked at the air gently, as if scratching some unseen itch.

 He whispered of quails and she hummed in thought, recalling how he had prepared some for their dinner - that first night. They hadn't ended up eating all that much of it, their attentions drawn on one another.

 Then he spoke of the queen and without thinking, Meissa responded, brow tensed slightly in thought, “I thought she'd preferred rabb-” wait.

 Her eyes opened.

 Wait.

 It all came crashing in: Realization. Understanding. Slight panic. “Oh.” Her breathing hitched as she came to terms with it, eyes focused on the heavy white of clouds far above. She shivered violently for a moment, emotions crashing onto her, until she twisted her head 'round to meet his gaze, where he rested his head atop her belly, still thin compared to what she knew - she knew - it would be.

 And it all quieted.

 She looked at him and a strange sort of peace overwhelmed her, washing away the turmoil of the last few seconds. There were hints of fear and of what-ifs, but also, there was love. “Am I...?” she swallowed, then twisted the rest of her body to right herself, lifting her head to press her face into Flynnigan's chest. She was frozen there for a long moment until laughter bubbled from her lips. “Oh, I, uh,” she started, and stopped, and started again - and then laughed again, into his chest.

 “I guess we'll have to start thinking of names soon, huh?”

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She turned to stare at him; her optics full of love, his but a soft blushing smile. The darkened antlers atop his crown folded gently until nothing more of him was left but an excitable whine, paws tapping the ground in a frantic manner as she moved a time too many. It didn't matter, no.

He embraced her, swallowing her in the curly-furred limbs he despised but the ones she loved so much. He hadn't any words for her yet, a thundering heart pounded away at his chest at such a volume all he could do was leave her with a plethora of possessive scent rubs and kisses. 

He let himself take her in another time, tail trembling between his legs both in shame of what he'd done and in slight accomplishment. At least now he'd known for a fact what he'd done, and it was a fact he'd keep doing. She'd taken to him, only God knew when during their week together, but it was obvious he was pleased regardless.

Soon, however, he grew antsy, pushing her away to nudge her towards their home underground. “Might we go inside?” He'd always been a private bloke, and though there seemed to be no soul in sight, he trusted nobody with this information but himself.

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 He exploded into cuddles and kisses and she did the same, pressing into him and lapping at his face, his nose, his eyes. They were going to be parents. He was going to be a father! (oh honey) She was going to be a mother! Was her heart always so loud in her ears? Could she always feel it shoving against her ribcage like an animal trying to escape?

 She rubbed against him, her cheeks wiping his own and his neck and everywhere, marking with those very scent glands he'd marked her with. Her tails were whirling, flapping against the earth and the air and Flynn - !

 He asked if they should go inside and she whined softly. The wind was so nice, the air so fresh up here - but she understood. She nuzzled into him, breathing in his scent and shivering with delight. As much as he would embrace her, she embraced him back. “Sure,” she finally exhaled, paws leading her before she even had the chance to focus and move them herself. Even as she walked, she kept her body firmly against his side, tails flapping up and over his hips possessively, excitedly.

 They were having pups!

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