The little thing was curled up tightly in the middle of the many blankets on top of her bed. She watched the little weasel of a child, the combination of sands in his fluffy fur and the peaceful face of innocence fast asleep. Her frown was not hidden as she stared at the little hybrid child. She could see the wolf in it, along with subtle hints of herself mixed in here and there. The child’s face was sharp, but softer and fuller than that of a coyote’s slim lines. What was worst of all was that she knew nothing about her one-week old son. The moment when she first had recognized the nudges in her womb for what they were she had freaked out. Her mind was still unable to wrap itself around this impossibility. The child had no father, and she was far from fit to become a mother. Yet here she stood and the little heart hummed. He had opened his eyes and looked at her with the eyes draped in baby blue that the majority of the infants shared. This young soul was unwanted, but she had not had it in her to end its life and dispose of the body. Whatever mechanism activated within a mother, it had not skipped her entirely. No matter how little she wanted this, this was her son, and he was part of her and the clan.
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