Ψ · Lipstick on,

 Her fur was thinning, cool air reaching the soft warmth of her stomach more than before. She was faintly aware of what this meant, of the timeline. Not a whole lot, of course, having never experienced this before. It wasn't often women spoke of the fur that grew faint and fair about their teats, ready for the inevitable pawing and prodding that would come as her little ones took their first, second, one hundredth drink from her body.

 It wasn't quite real, you see.

 Meissa had never truly expected to have children and a loving soon-to-be-husband. She had cared for others before, of course, but the idea of actually having children had always been a fantasy. A distant one, she never thought possible - until it was a fearful one full of questions and concerns. Now, there was still fear but it was abated by her new security in her new home.

 Today, she sat some dozen or so metres away from the depths of her home, where the sinkhole dropped into the Hiraeth and her new family slept. She had just enjoyed watching the sun rise over the distant horizon and now it lay, lazy, in the distance. With a gentle yawn, the woman rose to her paws and shook out her pelt, turning her head to scan the surroundings and see if anyone was about.

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These months had been a dedicated cat and mouse exercise, the tiny figure doing everything in her power to remain hidden since she first manifested in the autumn leaves of that forest.

But there had been too many there. Too many to evade. 
So she headed east.

Spring had come and gone, as had summer, bringing and taking the bliss and ease of their seasons as they slipped into autumn. As the mountains descended into forests, soon those towering canopies dwindled into shrublands. Onward she pressed, taking cover where she could if she caught whiff of another. But even those overarching woods, too, vanished, and Irene had wound up lost as she always was. The rolling plains were as unfamiliar as the scents that inhabited them, and out of preservation she had stayed close to the waters.

Today the winds betrayed her, though, as she walked downwind, failing to alert her to the upcoming presence of another. As the sun slowly rose, casting light and shadows alike, the small female found herself caught off-guard as another wolf rose from just ten or so meters away, the tall rolling grasses having hidden them before. Frozen mid-step, Irene's heart pounded, her limbs tensed, as her mind furiously fought over whether to flee - the plains offered little protection.

She could only pray, to gods she didn't believe in, that the stranger wouldn't notice her.

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 The gods she chose didn't listen.

 Motion caught her eye and the woman turned to look at a quivering young lady who stood staring at her. Meissa blinked once, twice, and realized that the girl looked like she was about to pee herself. Why was she so scared? Concern filled her eyes and she glanced back the way it appeared the stranger had come from - was there someone following her? Watching her? Was she fleeing from someone?

 No - was she afraid of her?

 Sometimes, Meissa forgot her size, her bestial qualities that were often mocked or reviled. Her ears quivered back and she attempted to make herself look unimposing to the much smaller girl. “Oh - hello.” Oh, their eyes nearly matched in hue. It wasn't all that often that Meissa found others with similarly pink coloured eyes.

 “Are you alright?”

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Her heart might’ve sunk through her chest to the ground.

Her peripheries began to fuzz at the edges, the gentle rolling breezes feeling more like slicing daggers at her. Limbs almost tingled, either from her senses being overwhelmed or trying so hard to not exist. None of it made any difference as those eyes stared back at her, much like hers but also so very not.

The gentled words and mannerisms only made her flinch - Irene knew the tone, knew what it was supposed to mean. But others before this stranger had used them before, as a front. Was the ground beginning to quake, or was it simply a wave of shivers trembling down her spine? ”no…” she all but whispered, lost in the winds as it left her tongue.

”Wh-who are you?” Words uttered with more purpose, now. Still quiet, but carried with a weight that asked more than the question itself. What do you want? Where are you from? Am. I. In. Danger? Whether to stabilize herself, or to feign some sort of strength, Irene placed down the forepaw she’d been holding in mid-step. Gaze locked on the other, the rest of her senses were frantically scanning to assess escape routes. Tail tucked against her leg, she braced herself.

Braced for the inevitable, as fate had taught her.
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 Meissa could smell the fear on the stranger, could see it in every quivering essence of her. So, she lay down, the early plumpness of her belly giving way in a way she had not been aware of. Oh, how odd this felt. A different kind of pressure, having more to her and knowing what was inside. Knowing she had to be gentle with herself or they might be harmed.

 “I'm Meissa,” she said, forgetting the need for stealth. When she had first been so afraid to share her name, she was starting to get a bit more comfortable here. “I live there, with my husband and the rest of my pack.” She'd indicate towards the Hiraeth, hoping the girl would see it and not accidentally plummet down the hill if she went that way.

 She had heard the answer and she wanted to help, but wasn't certain how. “What about you?” She tried to keep her voice soft, motherly in a way that she hadn't known before. Something about being pregnant, maybe. Her brow creased in concern and she glanced back towards the way the girl had come. “Is someone after you?” She surely acted as if she were about to be devoured by any stranger who might come.

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The instant the stranger moved, a flash of adrenaline swept through Irene. Rear legs collapsed, readying her to turn about face to flee. Forelegs curled up, but as the first one reached to her side to spin away, it slammed down. And paused.

Rosy eyes were transfixed as the other laid down. The fluttering of her heartbeat raced in her ears, in her chest, but the single moment of hesitation brought her flight to a halt. Meissa, she called herself. Here with others. Blinking ever so slightly, she glanced in the direction Meissa motioned, perhaps expecting a swell of beasts to emerge. For this to be it.

Nothing happened.

A whimper caught in her throat as the conversation shifted onto herself; she buried it with a deep gulp. Her voice seemed lost, those thoughts whirling in her mind couldn't slow enough to be grasped and formed into coherence. Internal scrambling left her trying to compensate, straightening herself out as she repositioned herself to face Meissa fully. "I--" Words... what were they?

"Irene." she muttered, clearing her throat, "--and... I don't know... kind of..." Ears swiveled as she glanced behind her, almost expecting someone, something, to be there. It always felt like there was. "Death, I guess." It was always there, always lingering, hovering, trying to entangle her. To swallow her whole.

Death had been the bear that slew her parents. The traffickers who murdered her grandparents.
It had been him. The Jackal.

A shiver, deep and cold. "It's always following me."

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 Meissa knew that there were others nearby, milling about and doing their jobs. Perhaps Flynn was even wondering where she was, always a few steps behind her especially now that her sides grew heavy with child. She watched as the other tried to calm herself. Why was this girl so afraid? Why did she look to run at the first breath or motion? Understanding this, Meissa kept her own motions gradual and slow, never making any sudden movements.

 She recalled her fear, her confusion when she had risen from the sea, here.

 It had left her vulnerable to things she wished she could have avoided... though, in the end, those things had brought the best things into her life. “Irene is a pretty name.” She hoped the gentle kindness would not be taken negatively and would not offend. After all, she wished nothing more than to ease the worries of the girl before her. It would be a shame if her attempts at friendly conversation ended up stressing the poor girl out more.

 Death... hm. “It follows us all,” she admitted with a sigh, “But so does life.” Her head turned slowly to nod towards her bulging sides. Her head straightened back towards the woman with the same careful, intentional motions. “Have you been running from it long, Irene?” Her whole life, she supposed would be the answer. “Do you seek respite?”

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