Winter song

[Mew Sadira]

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http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... ptable.png); background-position:bottom; background-repeat:no-repeat;"> This is in the unclaimed, southern part of Overgrowth Sunrise The pups look like the ones in this table :] Word Count: 392 The children giggled. They toppled around each other in the grass by her feet, getting rid of their excess energy. She had shifted for the first time after their birth only days ago, and they had spent a long time getting used to her shape. Now, they were used to it by far, but it was most practical to be in the lupus form when they craved meals. Still, they had begun to nibble the meat she brought home some weeks ago, and she was proud to see that they enjoyed both the meat they could nibble off themselves, and the meat she brought them from her own body. In addition to the milk, they gained weight quickly, and the oldest were already plump and looking well-fed. The smallest one, Vesle, looked not as healthy, but perhaps that was simply because she was smaller. Apparently, it was not uncommon, and such weaknesses might even out with time. To think that they would be fully weaned in just a month was unbelievable to the new mother, and she already dreaded the day the litter of three wished to sever the tight bond of the family by starting their own. Now, after all the anxiety she had felt, all was full of love. Her fingers plucked the strings calmly, eyes watching the three and her voice humming lightly. She'd brought them out here so they could —already now— start to see the world, and other places than the packlands. Though, part of it was that she had wished for privacy from the pack's ears. She had not played her instruments in months, and she had longed to do so ever since she realized she could not shift because of the litter around her waist. Now, her front claws were shortened so her fingers could better find the strings. Soft tones sprung from the instrument: the player did not notice her surroundings outside the idyllic image of her three children playing in the grass. Grass that would soon be covered in snow as white as her own pelt, and the song upon her lips fit: it was an old song of the winter, although she did not know that. She had merely read the melody somewhere, and it was pleasing to the ear as much as the sight before her was pleasing to the eye.

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